Avoiding the Marriage Law
by Dekaying
Summary: Although they both want to avoid the prospect of a marriage law being passed, Hermione and Draco have very different approaches to getting their way. For them, in the end, it won't matter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish I had her talent, I am not J.K. Rowling and did not create her vast Wizarding world. The plot is original, and maybe one day, with enough practice, I will be able to express on paper as efficiently as Ms. Rowling. With a lot of practice. Maybe.**

Chapter 1: A Rather Slytherin Move

It was a quarter until the start of a new day, and the Prime Minister found himself with the foresight of worry he had learnt to expect when mysterious events began to creep into his country. Across the nation, there were reports of technological interruptions that even solar flares could not explain. Although grateful that this phenomenon was nothing as terrible as the inexplicable deaths during the term before his, he remained apprehensive. He sat alone, in his office, in all but silence save the sound of his teacup clinking on his desk placing the once hot beverage down as it no longer served its purpose. He closed his eyes when he heard the unwanted cough behind him, and mouthed the next few sentences along with its announcer. "To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Shacklebolt."

The Prime Minister turned to an expectant man in the irremovable painting. "Yes, I will see Shacklebolt. We both know that any scheduled conflicts will magically be resolved, if they have not been already." He turned to sit behind his desk and had no sooner placed himself in what he perceived as an imposing posture when the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, appeared from green smoke, shattering all the Prime Minister's premeditated attempts of an authoritative appearance. The Minister of Magic had a natural commanding presence; the Prime Minister could easily deduce how he took office, despite his lack of political experience.

"Prime Minister, it is a pleasure meeting with you again," Shacklebolt began, sitting across from his host.

The Prime Minister sat first in silent observation, reluctant to return unfelt sentiments. Routinely, with the words of a diplomat, he inquired, "How may I help you, Minister of Magic?"

Shacklebolt smiled politely before his unexpected response. "I think I must apologize in advance, for I believe this will be a long conversation. I have, of course, had my staff take care of your other obligations for the day, should our conversation run even longer than I expect."

The Prime Minister tried his hardest to keep a stoic face, despite the numerous questions that inevitably followed Shacklebolt's preamble. He ran scenarios over in his head. Their magic wizard war had ended three years prior, much to the relief of the Prime Minister before him, as well as the rest of the country. Although there were random issues sprinkled throughout the post war years, nothing rose to the forefront that would cause such an alarm. Unless…

His train of thought was interrupted by the other minister. "I can see your brow wrinkle more and more by the second. Now I must apologize for a second time, for causing you unnecessary worry."

"How can I not be worried, when every time a Minister of Magic appears in this office it is to explain horrific events or forewarn the current Prime Minister of _upcoming_ horrific events? But even these conversations last less than an hour. If you have rescheduled my appointments for the day, I hate to think…"

Again Shacklebolt interrupted him before his thoughts became too morbid. "I assure you, Prime Minister, that the reason for our conversation will be for deficiency in my knowledge of Muggle history, and not for anything as dark as the path your mind is taking you." The Prime Minister's body visibly relaxed, so Shacklebolt continued, "The magical community is significantly smaller than the muggle one, and in many ways it makes our people easier to manage. Many a dark witch or wizard has been expunged by a more powerful witch or wizard before conflict can damage a whole nation. However, Voldemort was an unusually intelligent dark wizard; he built up followers by amplifying prejudices while deceiving others with his charm, all without detection and for over a decade. Our nation was split and the Second Wizarding War cost us dearly. I need not go into details the depressing aftereffects of a civil war, as I have read about many in your Muggle world history, and they generally seem to parallel our circumstance." At this Shacklebolt let out a quiet sigh and sat in silence looking at his hands.

"Minister, I must admit I am relieved if in fact you have not come with some catastrophic news that will affect my people. However, if this discussion will lead into hours as you anticipate, I must defer you to get to the point."

"Of course, Prime Minister." Shacklebolt leaned forward and continued, "Two months ago the Ministry of Labor and Commerce recently submitted their census. We have, amongst many problems, a very real fear of extinction of our kind. So many youths died fighting for their cause, and older generations are unwilling to reproduce. We are left with a small population of less than 1,000 seventeen to fifty year olds, and my ministry has debated for over a month on possible solutions. Although I was an auror before this position, I have always appreciated the value of history. Unfortunately, our history has no records of the problem on possible extinction. From one of my trusted staff (who has Muggle parents) I have since learned that there are a few times countries have had to find creative solutions to population problems. I must admit, I was amazed that she could quickly retrieve such information, considering muggle world history is so vast. But then she showed me your muggle secret. Something about a net."

The Prime Minister was taken aback. Never had he interacted with the Minister of Magic in which he had the upper hand! Tossing aside the idea that witches can come from muggles (a slow realization crept into his head of his true ignorance to the reasons for their magical civil war), he asked, "I have two immediate questions. One-is your use of the internet related to our blackouts and two—what possible solutions has your ministry compiled?"

"Your first question I cannot answer, because I do not know what a blackout is in terms of this net thing. But I can tell you in four words the gist of the solutions. Enacting a marriage law."

The Prime Minister scoffed at this and sat back in his now comfortable chair. "I have never read when forcing marriage has worked. Countries throughout time have had to redact and amend their marriage laws after great pushback and sometimes from severe consequences of their people. I am surprised your trusted Muggle witch did not give you the research to oppose this idea."

Shacklebolt ignored the Muggle witch oxymoron. "She did. She is one of the reasons why I have yet to pass the proposed law. She suggested I speak with you. If you don't mind, I would like her to scribe this meeting. May I invite her in?"

"Why not? If she is a Muggle, then she must have some common sense. What is her name?"

"Hermione Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Appealing to Her Gryffindor Side

A content Hermione stepped out of her fireplace. Though two days long, it had been a successful meeting between the two ministers. Hermione knew, when she heard whisperings of a marriage law, that she would need to act immediately to stop it. Imagine, being forced to marry and procreate! Her experience from her early years of S.P.E.W. however, had taught her that sometimes the Slytherin approach to attaining a goal had its merit. Although she worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she addressed Shacklebolt (in premeditated elevator encounters) with slight hints in small conversations about histories of law enforced partnerships and their inevitable demise. It didn't take long, with Shacklebolt's obligations as Minister of Magic, to not want to repeat an unsuccessful history, and within a week of their brief encounters, Hermione found herself sought out for counsel. Soliciting help from the Prime Minister came without trying. He was more than willing to help the magical world when Shacklebolt sat before him, vulnerable. It was nice having the roles reversed for once.

Over the next six days Hermione worked diligently on a proposed draft for the Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners Campaign. It was her solution to the marriage law idea that she was afraid would gather support if she did not act fast enough. Shacklebolt had mentioned the need to create a shift in thinking for the Wizengamont before rumors of a marriage law made it to The Daily Prophet. She knew her campaign might be a longshot when addressed to witches and wizards with antiquated views and whose lives would not be as affected, but she had to try.

What she had not anticipated, however was the impromptu visit on the seventh day since the ministers' meeting. It began with a strong knock on the door.

"Come in, please." Hermione stated, perplexed. It was unusual to have to address a creature problem before she had even ordered her morning beverage. She was more confused when an unknown figure appeared before her. A stout, pale man she could not place in her memory walked in. But there was something familiar in the eyes…

"Forgive the deception, Hermione, but I did not want to be accosted with requests before I could chat with you about an idea that has formed over the past week. You know how it is when you miss a few days of work. It just piles up." He was about to point to the unopened scrolls on her desk as evidence, when Hermione drew her wand.

Immediately she pointed the wand at his nose, though two meters separated the two of them. "What was the last request you made of me, and where were we at the time?"

The stout man froze, and carefully answered, "I told you to schedule an appointment with my secretary for next Monday. We were still in the Prime Minister's office. Or did you mean the actual time? I can answer that as well. It was 10:33 at night, I assume, because you take such prestigious notes that you even marked to the minute some of our statements. How did you know it was me?"

Hermione lowered her wand and moved behind her desk. "Thank you, Kingsley Shacklebolt. You know one can never be too cautious. Most wizards under a disguisement charm, even the very skilled, cannot always change their eyes. Your eyes looked familiar despite your unknown form. I took a guess, and the only way of knowing for sure was to interrogate you. If you were not the Minister of Magic, then your answer would have helped me ascertain your true identity. If you were a fraud, well, I had a contingency for that as well."

The Minister of Magic smiled at her. "Of course your current display proves I need not reciprocate the interrogation. It also supports the proposition I have for you." He looked at her for a second before continuing, "Hermione, I must be direct. Your abilities and reputation would best be suited for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"But—"

"I know about your campaign for equality among all magical beings, and your fight for their rights is admirable. I am asking you to think on a larger scale. The ministry needs talent such as yours in a department that has more clout. You know the joke about 'being sent to the Centaur's Office' I am sure." Her silence answered for him, so he continued. "Some of the perks to a job in that office include having a stronger impact on the enforcement of laws that have not, for reasons of prejudice, ignorance, or laziness, always been enforced. Your sense of justice will bring occurrences of injustice to the forefront. This encompasses injustices against magical creatures as well. With you in this department, laws can be polished and we will be on the correct path to a less corrupt ministry."

Hermione was quick to reply, "Sir, it is hard to enforce laws that are nonexistent. I fail to see how I can protect those that suffer under the lack of regulations. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ipso facto, does not create the laws."

"Ah, but you have yet to hear me out completely, Hermione." At that, Hermione sat, expecting him to give the full parameters of his proposal. She was determined to make a logical, fully informed decision. For the next half hour Shacklebolt explained (without interruption) the intricacies of her promotion, should she choose to accept it. He stressed certain aspects that included research and correcting injustices, and acknowledged her ability to think through situations before acting as a strong quality needed for the position. Because she is currently a junior undersecretary and the move is not lateral but a promotion, her new title would be Undersecretary to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He mentioned that Harry would soon be Head of the Auror Office and Ron appointed Senior Member of the Advance Guard, and wouldn't it be lovely working together again, in a capacity where their jobs could influence a nation? Ultimately, however, it was his casual remark about her new position's involvement in lawmaking that had her ear. The undersecretary would attend Wizengamot meetings on creation of magical law and even be able to speak at them if a formal proposal is submitted prior to the meeting. "You seem to think your new department, should you choose to accept, only enforces law. As I reform this ministry, I plan to enact more checks and balances. The perspective of our law enforcers would be useful when brainstorming how to create a stronger government. I thought, since you had so cleverly obtained my ear in regards to your opposition of a possible marriage law, you would find this new detail interesting."

She did. By the end of the day, Hermione acquiesced to her promotion and move to another department. Had she known, however, one of the undersecretaries to the Wizengamot was her greatest bully at Hogwarts, she might have taken more than a day to agree.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Rather Gryffindor Move

Draco Malfoy lay in bed, eyes focused on his charmed ceiling. Today marked the first day of his new job as Undersecretary to the Wizengamot. Broken connections within the ministry meant he had to actually work his way up. Luckily he was equipped with wit, creativity, charm, and a keen talent to get the upper hand due to his ability to compartmentalize his life and his goals. He excelled in his N.E.W.T.s, which he took along with many "eighth years" and was able to immediately acquire a low level entry job with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. However, Draco was too competent and skilled in the persuasive arts; he never stayed more than a half year in a position without a promotion. Last Friday had been his last day working for the International Magic Office of Law. He had learned a great deal in the art of lawmaking and law abiding. Undersecretary to the Wizengamot was a natural next step. He removed the covers from his body and began his morning routine as he reflected on how he arrived to this moment.

His family escaped Azkaban following the war, but the Malfoy reputation plummeted among his pureblood peers and the public alike. In an effort to rebuild their reputation and adapt to post-war views (in which elite pure-blood status held much less influence), the Malfoy's had "volunteered" to finance many charities. (As a matter of fact, the economic decline that occurs in many countries post war did not seem to happen in Wizarding Great Britain due to the financial recompense of many pureblooded families in the hopes of buying their place back in the newly forming society.) Their continued patronage to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries provided much needed public assuaging, as they made sure the Daily Prophet posted every visit and donation. Slowly, over the following years, their image had morphed enough to make many of the public forget their past misgivings.

The only good that came from that first post-war year was the filtering of characters. Funny how easily witches and wizards showed their true colors when they no longer feared the Malfoy name. Draco soon learned who was who and mentally listed every snub.

In the first post-war year, his bitterness towards the need to rebuild the Malfoy name soon transformed into an epiphytic realization. The world around him was greater than the pureblood society in which he was raised, and it took his arch nemesis, a blood-traitor, and a Mudblood to intrude and shift his prior prejudices. The irony that he had bullied that crazy haired witch for so long with indoctrinated beliefs of the inferiority of a Mudblood-one that outperformed him in every aspect save flying and potions- did not escape him now. It did, however, escape his notice when they were schoolmates at Hogwarts. It embarrassed him now, the immaturity he portrayed and the prejudice he embraced. Things began to change when getting the Dark Mark had scared him. Realizing the evil behind his words and that the witches and wizards spewing the hate meant to torture and kill terrified him to the very core. His body shook as he remembered Potter walking in on him weeping during sixth year. He shuttered remembering the Muggle Studies professor begging for her life. He almost cried recalling Granger on the floor screaming from the Cruciatus Curse. But he could not change the past. The permanent Dark Mark on his left arm was a daily reminder of that. She had a daily reminder on her arm too, and hers was not voluntary either. When he next saw her, he would take his built up courage and finally give her a long overdue apology.

He sighed to himself upon further reflection. No. Not Mudblood. Muggle-born. He would start his new position today, and it would not bode well to have that atrocious word in his instinctive vocabulary. Muggle-born. He must say Muggle-born.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: They Meet

Over the past two years Draco had slowly formed new connections within the ministry. Unlike his father, he wisely built relationships with competent officials in _all_ departments, _despite_ their blood status. Learned prejudices can also be unlearned, but it was sometimes still a struggle not to be surprised when a half-blood or even, daresay, a Muggle-born, proved worthy of his or her position within a department. He planned to visit one such witch as he prepared himself to floo an hour early to the ministry-to the Department of Magical Transit on the sixth floor to be more exact. The witch he sought did not work the same hours as most officials, and he planned to catch her alone before she was relieved for the day. He wanted to be as prepared as possible for his new post, and one aspect of that was knowing news before others.

"Ms. Featherstone," he began, after a thorough inspection of the floor's premises, and after silently casting _muffliato_ , "may I request your confidence in regards to –"

"Mr. Malfoy, I know that look." The tall, thin, witch stood from behind her desk at the Portkey Office and walked excitedly toward him. "You heard a rumor you want me to verify. Hmm. Which one could it be? No, no! Please let me guess. It is one of my favorite games with you." Apparently there had not been much commotion during her shift; her eagerness to speak with him could only spring from boredom. She was also wrong. He in fact did not know if any rumors existed, but there was no need to confide as much to the elder witch.

"Ms. Featherstone, we both know I don't enjoy games that try my patience. I want to know if you have heard anything about a new law proposal. I would greatly appreciate a direct, prompt response. That is well within your capacity."

"Ah, but you must play because I have the upper hand! But don't fret Mr. Malfoy, I know when I can push my limits with you, and that sour look says that it isn't today. It's not most days, come to think of it," she commented to herself more than him. "I believe you want to know about the highly secretive _marriage law rumor_." She slowly mouthed the last three words, but the silence spoke volumes to Draco as his head wrapped around such a law, its purpose and repercussions. He wished she would continue without her dramatics. "Although, I don't know how you found out," she said, taping her finger against her chin and looking toward the ceiling. At this she leaned forward and whispered, "It was a conversation between the Chief Warlock and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement only yesterday afternoon while they waited for their portkey to Barcelona. I made that portkey using an old snitch. They were going to a quidditch world cup qualifier match, you know. I thought it was an appropriate gesture, but they did not seem to notice." Leaning back and speaking in a louder, but still quiet voice, she continued, "I was sure I was the only one privy to their conversation, and I haven't said a word about it until now. Hmm. I must admit a slight bit of jealousy. Who else can gather information as prolifically as myself?"

"Nevermind that, Ms. Featherstone," he sighed, too much like Lucius. This was news to him, but his stoicism was mastered during his Deatheater days, and Ms. Featherstone was none the wiser. "What can you tell me of their conversation? And please, remember your audience. No more asides to yourself will be financially appreciated."

"Fa! Mr. Malfoy you insult me. I gossip with you for the pleasure of gossip alone. And since it is for my pleasure, your condescending manner in controlling my entertaining means of conveying such rumors might make me not speak to you at all." At that she crossed her bony arms and glared.

Annoyed, Draco also had a tinge of respect for this Half-blood-no, Portkey Official. She held her own well enough. It was frustrating that she could not be bought to filter out the unnecessary comments. She must have been a Gryffindor. Among their many annoying qualities was that their principals could not be bought. It was, however, with respect that he acquiesced, "Very well, Ms. Featherstone, please indulge me with everything that occurred between the two yesterday afternoon while you stealthily eavesdropped."

Agrippa uncrossed her arms and replied, "I will happily oblige, and lucky for you, I have to make it quick. My shift ends in about forty minutes and in about thirty minutes ministry officials will begin crowding the corridors and offices." Draco smirked. The conversation was finally getting somewhere. "Yesterday, as I was awaiting an owl for portkey location confirmation within the Departamento Magico de Transporte (that's Spanish for Magical Department of Transportation you know) in Madrid, I could tell there was whispering behind my back. I have a keen sense of when someone is partaking in my favorite pastime. I quickly cast a _focal sonorous_ and was able to hear what was transpiring as if I was the third to their conversation. Then, with great foresight I might add, I grabbed an empty box and also cast _geminio verbatim_. I see your confusion, and rightly so! It is a spell I made myself after watching my mother with a Muggle contraption that can hold voices. This spell captures the words of a targeted conversation and copies them into a container. You have to have a container before you cast or the spell is useless." She paused to smile proudly.

"Ms. Featherstone, I have run out of time. I believe I hear the Floo Network activating. Would you be so kind as to give me the box so I may listen at my leisure later?" Draco mentally catalogued the new spell. This one might prove handy, although he preferred others to do his snooping for him. Hopefully the talented witch would give him the box.

"I know why you come to me, Mr. Malfoy. I may be a successful gossip, but I choose my audience, and you prefer discretion. I am sure you cast a _muffliato_ when I wasn't looking. You mustn't appear so needy. I have no one else with which I care to share this particular information. I trust you will put it to good use. You may keep the box." She levitated the small wooden object into Draco's hands. He quickly put it in a pocket on the inside of his robe. "To activate it, say, ' _Verbatim revilio_.'"

With a proper nod Draco left the office. Agrippa Featherstone had just delivered him a valuable piece of knowledge. Why would the ministry desire to enact a pureblood custom? He knew Kingsley was trying to unite the witches and wizards of Great Britain, but by adopting the ideologies of the elite? There were too many questions. If there was a marriage law in the works, he needed to understand the perspectives and goals of his advisories before slyly working against them and pushing his own agenda. He needed to find solitude as soon as possible.

It was not until lunch that Draco was able to isolate himself in a small janitorial closet on the second floor. After casting an Imperturbable Charm, and silencing the soft humming coming from somewhere within the closet, Draco pointed his wand to the box and said, " _Verbatim revilio_." Immediately Chief Warlock Doge's voice could be heard.

"…but the pure-bloods did not have it all wrong."

"I know there is good in every custom, but this is not an example of one of them." Draco recognized the voice of Williamson, Head of the Department of Law Enforcement.

"You do not see the bigger picture, Williamson. We are on the brink of _extinction_."

Williamson scoffed, "Extinction! You act as though Wizarding Britain is the only place in the world. Have you ever been to a Quidditch World Cup?"

"There is no need for condescension, Williamson. I am talking about preserving a culture, and the people that make up its society. Rome once had our kind, but they were extinguished thousands of years ago. I would rather that _not_ happen to us."

" _Portus_ ," a familiar feminine voice said. "My this was such a clever idea! I hope they can admire the ingenuity of using a snitch as a portkey." Damn that witch. As clever as she was, she had recorded herself, and being the closest to the spell, Draco was no longer able to hear the real conversation. "Sirs, if you please, your portkey, which I so cleverly made from an old snitch, will activate in a matter of seconds."

"Why thank you, Madam," responded Doge. And that was the end of the conversation.

Draco shut the box and sighed. He would have preferred more insight, but it was enough. Doge saw promise to imposing an age old custom among pure-bloods of arranged marriages, but he failed to see the changing view of the post-war citizens. Williamson was slightly more aware, he surmised, that young witches and wizards were less likely to embrace a custom in a new society trying to form a new identity, a new unified culture. He knew his next move. He would push for the marriage law. He would even volunteer to write clauses within it. Being a pure-blood elite still held a few privileges, he was happy to discover. No one would suspect that he strongly opposed it, but he would write the clauses in such a light that their prejudices would be apparent, even for Doge. Surely a custom that even his generation wanted expunged would not pass the Wizengamot when its bigotries were so exposed.

Draco stood and opened the door, confident that the staff on the second floor were out to lunch.

"Aha!" a high pitched shout pierced his ears. Draco backed against the wall as he stared down a wand pointed at his throat. His eyes traced the wand to the hand, the arm, the neck, and finally to the face of Hermione Granger.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he found himself snarling despite his earlier resolution.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Why did you cast an Imperturbable Charm on the closet?" She had yet to lower the wand.

"How?"

"This closet emits a soft hum. I listen for it every time I pass. Today it was unusually silent." She glared at him, unwavering.

"A little paranoid, Granger? Lower you wand. This is the only time I will ask nicely." Grey met brown as he returned her glare.

"You didn't say 'please'. That word is usually included in a _nice_ request, Malfoy."

"I believe, under my current situation, the manner of my request will suffice." They stood in frozen silence a moment before she lowered her attack stance. He scoffed. "Still the little-know-it-all, I see."

"Still the same secretive prat, I see," she returned. "What were you doing in the closet?"

"Like I would ever tell you. Does it kill you that I know something you don't?" This was all wrong. He wanted to apologize. He didn't want her friendship, but he also didn't want the animosity. He was so tired of hatred. But something about being around her brought back recalled emotions against his will. He looked down at her left arm, wondering what he would find.

"You wish, Malfoy." But then her expression changed to slight alarm when she realized where he was looking. His face was no longer sour, but he still looked too much like Lucius for her to soften. "It's still there. Cursed daggers leave a permanent mark, as I am sure you know." She lifted her arm for him to get a better view.

She said it so matter-of-factly. How? Her bravery ran deep to be able to put up such fortitude when confronted about the torturous memory. He pulled up his left sleeve and held it parallel to hers, a few centimeters apart. "I know, Granger."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Staring Battle

They inspected one another's marked arms, both in contemplation of the other's motive for displaying it. Draco interpreted her move as one of bravery, her Gryffindor trademark. He saw the etched letters carved into her skin and suppressed his emotion of disgust. The moment was enough. He averted his eyes as her screams crept into the forefront of his thoughts, but his face would not betray his inner turmoil of contrition for a past he could not control. He pushed the memory away, creating a barrier by focusing on the current moment.

Hermione interpreted his move as one of intimidation, a common Slytherin characteristic. Unlike him, her emotions were on display. He watched her eyes roam his faded mark, and saw her right hand jerk, as if she were going to touch it, then changed her mind. She was curious, as always. He could foresee an inevitable line of uncomfortable questions.

"You know my story, Malfoy. Tell me yours." Her voice was soft, but not kind. She was still examining his arm.

"You have heard my story for years, Granger."

"But never from you." She looked up and bore her eyes into him, with a calculating look.

"You know, if you didn't demand knowing everything about everyone, you would probably be more liked, Granger. Well, I am sure that bush on your head doesn't help much either." He wasn't enjoying the conversation, or the automatic insults of which it seemed he could not govern. But he didn't desire abandoning the moment either. She was challenging him, and he was still puerile enough to initiate a staring battle.

"Why Malfoy?"

"Why what, Granger?"

"Why were you in the closet?"

"There are many reasons why someone would go to a closet, Granger. Pick one."

"You put an Imperturbable Charm on it. And _muffliato_ , most likely, because I couldn't hear anything either."

"Granger, the bigger question might be why you are so paranoid that you stalk a quiet closet." They continued to stare. He did not plan on wavering while she interrogated.

Unlike Draco, Hermione was willing to divulge information. She had her own agenda, and she needed the conversation to linger to accomplish it. "Paranoia is defined as suspicion without justifiable evidence, Malfoy. I had to sneak into the ministry once, and it wasn't as hard as it should have been. I believe my mistrust in the defects of our security wards is justified."

"Ah, but Granger, paranoia is also a mental condition attributed to exaggerated self-importance. That, I believe, describes you entirely."

"Your definition is slightly off."

"But not enough to not hold truth," he smirked.

Her eyes almost faltered, but he could tell she was just as determined as he was. "You know, Malfoy, despite your mysterious presence in the closet," -she stared harder waiting for something-"I thought that maybe there was more to you. I wasn't sure where this conversation was going," she stated without blinking, "but it is obvious now that you are still the annoying bully from our school years. What a shame you couldn't learn from life's lessons. I pity you, really." She lowered her left arm as she smiled conspiratorially. In his peripheral, Draco saw her arm drop and again her screams and his regret pushed beyond the barrier he had created for it.

As the memory emerged, Hermione gasped. Her eyes widened, then lost focus and dropped to his chin. Awareness tiptoed into Draco's perception of the situation. He should have known. She had been direct enough about it.

She had won this battle.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Their Secrets Revealed

All she wanted to know was why he was in the closet.

Hermione was analytical, calculating, and highly intelligent—a true Ravenclaw by all definition save the fact that she coveted friendship, and _they_ were going to Gryffindor. Her choice was easy when she faced the Sorting Hat.

She prided herself on her intellect. It was not just her passion but also her security. However her proclivities towards book learning created a deficiency in other areas. For one, she hardly knew how to make friends upon first acquaintance. When she had received her acceptance to Hogwarts, one of her many thoughts was that being a witch was the reason why she couldn't make friends. But Hogwarts quickly disproved that theory. She struggled, even among her magical peers. It took a troll to bond her with Harry and Ron. Even as a grown twenty-one year old woman, those two, and Ginny, were her only friends. The rest were acquaintances on a gradient scale, but none even close to tantamount to what she had with her two best friends. This new Draco, the one that held his faded Dark Mark beside her ugly scar, left her dumbfounded. Experience has taught her that _her_ friendships were based on loyalty and bravery, not vulnerability. Besides, he was a manipulative Slytherin. The very situation she found herself in now before Draco highlighted her lack of social ease.

She was a Legilimens. Not a truly skilled one, as she battled with herself over the morality of knowing someone else's secrets against their will and was hesitant to practice on others. She still needed her wand and deep concentration, but Draco's arrogant personality allowed him to be the perfect subject as she had silently cast the incantation. Later she would reflect back on just how easy it was to pierce his mind because, of all things, he thought she was challenging him to a staring battle.

Legilimens manifest their skills in increments as they learn to delve into minds and interpret thoughts, emotions, and memories. Ironically, emotions were the easiest for Hermione to find, as she had yet to summon current thoughts and rarely a memory. As she broke his barriers, what she expected was not what she discovered and it flummoxed her. She had just accused him of being the same bully she knew in school, but she could _feel_ that wasn't true. She could _feel_ his regret to the name calling and bullying. As she struggled through the labyrinth of walls inside his mind, searching for his memory of the closet, something happened the moment she lowered her left arm.

A memory she was too Gryffindor to forget confronted her in third person. She could see herself on the floor of Malfoy Manor, screaming as Bellatrix was carving the letter "M" into her arm. She gasped, not eager to see more, and quickly broke eye contact. However, his emotions lingered within her. Malfoy had felt helpless. He had felt scared. And most surprisingly, he had felt remorse. She was sure his remorse was strong enough to heal a split soul. Overwhelmed and desiring nothing short of separating herself from the memory and the feeling of guilt, she struggled for what to do next.

"I don't need your pity, Granger," he spat at her. Hermione, for once, could not retort. Her brow crinkled and her eyes shifted everywhere but up into his. Her body began to shrink into itself and Draco now knew to what extent she had invaded his mind. He straightened himself in an effort of juxtaposition, and huffed, walking away. Hermione listened for the diminished sound of his footsteps before turning into the same closet he had emerged from not long before. She cast the necessary spells before her contained emotions spilled out as tears and soft wails. Fortunately for her, she had requested an extra-long lunch.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Ron

Draco knew Hermione had entered his brain, and believing her to be a skilled Legilimens as she was an overachiever in everything, was under the assumption that she had not only seen the torturous memory, but had also read his thoughts and emotions. He was only two-thirds correct. Nonetheless, because she had invaded and sorted through his psyche, she was now privy to what he wanted to say to her, thus negating the need to apologize. With that done, he had no desire to see her otherwise.

Hermione, until the closet incident, had rarely seen another's memory outside of using a pensive, but even then it was either with the subject's consent or knowledge. Draco's reaction to her gasp gave her no indication he knew what had transpired, and she was a witch that liked to base conjectures on fact. She felt morally obligated to do something about it, but was, for the first time in her life, at a loss for direction. Knowing now that his words did not echo his true sentiments was confusing. If he did in fact know that she had cast _legilimancy_ , then their next meeting might appear as her attempt to antagonize. If he did not know, then she would be faced with the discomfort of conversing with him without revealing what she knew. She doubted she could keep up the farce of animosity when she had experienced the depth of his sorrow.

Luckily for the two, an escape was provided in their paralleled desire to prevent the upcoming marriage law proposal. The Wizengamot Council would meet in one month to discuss their verdict to addressing the population issue. The submission deadline to put a proposal in the Council's agenda was the week before. With a timeline, their ambitious natures allowed them to focus on their mutual goal of thwarting the proposal with tenacity. The task was enough to distract them both, and much to their relief, neither Draco nor Hermione saw one another for the next few weeks following their closet encounter.

Although their goal was paralleled, their means of thwarting the proposal took intersecting paths with different degrees of difficulty. Draco surmised from his connection in the MLE department that Granger had been appointed as undersecretary for the sole purpose of combating the proposal. He knew there was probably more to her appointment, but the information was enough. With this in mind, he worked diligently to edit and amend the proposal the Wizengamot Council had drafted, and found it too easy to interject lines that Granger was sure to interpret as biased, pure-blood notions. He had finished his draft within three weeks, officially submitted it—to himself as it was the Undersecretary's job-to be added to the council's agenda, and spent the last week contingency planning all the angles in which Granger would argue. At least when it came to academics she was a predictable witch.

Hermione's path was not so easy even though she had begun working a few weeks before Draco. Her counterargument to the marriage law proposal was that the population problem was the consequence of children fighting in an adult's war, and in an effort to reclaim their stolen youth, had no desire to rush into adult responsibilities. The Wizengamot should entrust their citizens to follow the natural order of things, and allow the youth to choose their partners unforced. Thus, the _Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners_ was birthed. She was challenging cultural preconceptions and advocating change. It was an uphill battle that needed concrete, irrefutable evidence to make her proposal convincing.

Her statistics supported that positive interactions between two consenting adults with common morals and understandings led to marital success and procreation. Unfortunately, it was all Muggle based. Her upbringing kept her at a disadvantage since she was not attuned to witch and wizard dating rituals. She decided to use _Witch Weekly_ as a guide, but struggled with the many twists and turns and therefore could not concretely define the parameters. But she needed an understanding in order to merge her ideas with wizarding customs smoothly for her outline of the campaign. Ever resourceful, Hermione scrolled through her list. She could not ask Shaklebolt now that she worked in the ministry, as the Minister of Magic had to appear neutral before the Council. Harry was a half-blood, and grew up Muggle like herself. Ginny, however, grew up with a mix of pure-blood and mainstream magic customs. She would have been the perfect resource had she not been in the middle of an intense match between England and Italy in a Quidditch World Cup qualifier. (The match was already on its third day, and both seekers had to take a brief timeout to heal from a head on collision. As the beaters and chasers played on, without a seeker for either team, there was no end in sight.)

Which is why, with two weeks before her proposal submission deadline, Hermione reluctantly owled Ron. He returned her owl almost immediately, confirming her request for a 2:00 meeting that afternoon.

Hermione was meticulous. She had drafted a list of questions about wizarding customs as she researched, but spent her one o'clock hour reordering them by importance. While her quill magically penned away, there was a knock at the door. "You may come in," she invited.

"Ms. Granger, there is a package for you," her assistant, Candida Brewer, a Hufflepuff five years her senior announced.

"A package? Where?" Hermione stood up and walked out of her office. On Candida's desk was a wrapped box, in crimson and gold. She wondered if it was an old acquaintance based on the Gryffindor colors. Unfortunately, war had made Hermione cautious ( _not_ paranoid like a certain wizard had accused). She raised her wand and commanded, " _Protego horribilis_. _Salvio hexia. Specialis Revelio_."

"Ms. Granger, sometimes your wealth of knowledge is intimidating. I don't know what any of those spells are, but you have convinced me to step away from what I had before considered an innocuous gift." At that, Candida stepped back three large steps.

A familiar voice from behind Hermione explained. "You would have known those spells if you were at Hogwarts during the war, Ms. Brewer. Come to think of it, I am surprised that you don't know them, what with hanging out with aurors and all. The first spell was to protect the two of you against potential Dark Magic. The next was protection against hexes. The last one was Ms. Granger's attempt to make this present reveal its secrets. Hello 'Mione." Ron approached from behind and kissed her right cheek.

"Hello Ron. Let's step into my office."

"Wait, are you not curious about this?" he asked, pointing his wand toward the still wrapped gift.

She glanced at it, then at Ron, and knew the inevitable outcome. He never knew how to prioritize. "I will open it under the condition that we begin right afterward. I have a deadline to meet." She walked to the box and muttered, " _April_." The box opened to reveal yet another box. This one was small, wooden and empty.

Ron picked it up and inspected it with the expertise attributed to his three years' service in MLE. " _Aparecium_. 'Mione, who is Agrippa?"

"Agrippa? I don't recognize the name—"

"Well he certainly has noticed you. He cast an invisible inscription for you on the inside of the lid. It reads, 'With admiration, Agrippa.'" Ron's voice held a tinge of jealously, and Hermione did not want an audience for the conversation. It was bad enough he often appeared in _Witch Weekly_ and _The Daily Prophet_ as the subject of wild gossip. She had no desire to be included.

"Ron, l have some treacle tarts in my office. Can I entice you to join me there where we can finish this conversation?" She smiled invitingly.

"Always the prepared one, eh, 'Mione? Point me to them." He followed her into her office and sat down, placing the gift box on the corner of her desk and grabbed a tart as she shut her door and cast _muffliato_. Ron mumbled with a mouthful of his favorite treat, "Now that you have successfully lured me into your cell and cast all the necessary spells, who is Agrippa?"

"I honestly don't know him, Ron." She sighed slightly and sat across from him.

"Then this goes without saying, but you need to practice precaution. You're in a bigger department now. Wizards of all kinds will find interest in you." He took another bite. "Especially since you are part of the Golden Trio."

"You speak from experience, I gather." She looked into his understanding blue eyes. She had always found them attractive.

He placed his large hand gingerly on hers. "I often find myself missing you."

"Me too." They looked at one another in a familiar, comfortable silence.

"Alright then," Ron cleared his throat, "let's get started. What do you want to know about Wizard mating rituals? I'm pretty sure we do it the same way as those Muggle blokes, you know." Hermione chuckled and slapped her friend. Ron shared the Weasley talent of knowing just the right moment to provide comic relief.

Precisely one day _before_ its deadline, Hermione marched determinedly to the Wizengamot Administration Services located on her floor, level two, to submit her proposal for review as an addition to the Council's agenda. Just as she had anticipated, she was directed to the Undersecretary to the Wizengamot's private office. As she knocked on Draco's door, she wondered which version of Draco to expect.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Draco eyed her as she cautiously walked into his office, her eyes surveying the room before resting on him. His first impression of Post-War Granger remained the same. She was still a bushy-haired-paranoid-little-know-it-all that thought she was better than everyone else at everything. He looked back down at the notes he was scribing in attempt to appear busy. He knew why she was standing before him, and desired nothing less than to expedite the conversation. After all, he was about to peruse her written argument; talking to her further would be arbitrary. While pretending to be in the midst of something of the utmost importance, he commanded, "Granger, please hand over the necessary scroll and you can be on your way."

Hermione followed his example of aloofness and directness. Apparently she did not wish to linger either as she raised her wand and levitated the parchment to his desk. "I believe you will find I followed all criteria."

He watched it land on his desk before glancing up. "Thank you."

Hermione met his glance with a newfound determination. "Malfoy, I—"

"Kindly close the door behind you when you leave, Granger," Draco cut her off. Whatever it was, he wasn't ready to hear it. As a skilled Occlumens, she should have never been able to penetrate his cerebral barriers. He hated what she represented to him and loathed the exposed feeling he had around her. He was not looking forward to their upcoming debate before the Wizengamot, one he would have to pretend to lose. At least after that, he would never see her again. To his relief and her chagrin, she wordlessly left the premises.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Great Debate

Hermione had yet to fully reveal to Harry and Ron why she had been so removed from them the past month. Fortunately for her, this was a pattern she often took when immersed in a project, and Harry and Ron had grown accustomed to her hermit-like behavior and accepted it without question. Besides, Hermione's reclusive personality also made her a total slob. Her room or office would have scrolls, piles of books, and parchment and ink everywhere. How she got things done in the apparent chaos escaped them.

Both friends had learned from experience that 'Mione always revealed her intentions in the end, and whatever it was that kept her passionately driven was never tantamount to their priorities, thus affecting them very little. That was not the case this time, as Harry marched to his best friend's office in order to secure a much needed private conversation. The purpose of his unscheduled visit lay in the unfolded pale-violet aeroplane in his hand.

Upon spotting her best friend standing in her doorway with an irate expression, she proclaimed, "Harry, I am guessing that is the Wizengamot's agenda in your hand for tomorrow's Council meeting. I was wondering when you would finally peruse it, considering the agendas were delivered through interdepartmental memos days ago. And by the flushed look on your face, you are not too happy about it."

"'Mione, why didn't you tell me sooner what you have been up to?" Harry looked at her, direct to the point, confused and slightly hurt.

"Harry, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I needed to do this without your support. Minister Shackelbolt is restructuring the Ministry, to filter out corruption and create checks and balances. Part of that was also renovating who is included in the Council, and the ability to challenge law proposals. This process will be tried for the first time tomorrow, and I want to own my part of it."

Harry reflected for a moment over her choice of words and couldn't help but wonder if their friendship was not as strong as it once was. But then he remembered the end of sixth year, and his resolution to find Horcruxes alone in his self-sacrificial Gryffindor way. Perhaps braving a challenge alone was just the first reaction their house had to things. "It says here that you will be speaking tomorrow. This is huge, 'Mione, and you didn't even bother telling me." He crossed his arms, creating a tense stance. "I don't care what Kingsley is trying to do, the Wizengamot is still corrupted. Remember when I had to appear before them before fifth year for underage magic? If Dumbledore had not been there, I would have been expelled from Hogwarts and worse, wandless. Even then it was fortunate he made it to my hearing. They're sneaky, 'Mione. They don't like change, and they will sabotage you."

"Which is why Shackelbolt is changing the members of the Wizengamot. As Head of the Auror Office, you are now a part of it. The Head was never a member before. Harry, it might be a slow process, but look how far we have come in just three years. Some governments take decades to change how they do things."

"Three years, 'Mione? More like since the beginning of Wizarding Britain." Hermione could see he was not relenting on his pessimistic view. "I will give Kingsley this, though—he is a wizard of action. I found out I would be joining the Council only moments before I was requested to be fitted for those ghastly plum colored dress robes."

Hermione brought the conversation back to the point. "What is the real problem, Harry? Surely you agree with my campaign. I mean, even if there are parts in which we differ, overall I am sure you find it better than the alternative."

"The alternative being enacting a marriage law? Of course your way is better. Look Hermione, I trust you. I may not have read all, or even half of your very long campaign, but I know you well enough to know that you have considered all the angles." Harry uncrossed his arms and relaxed his stance, and Hermione knew he truly meant what he said.

The next morning, Hermione woke confident, unsuccessfully battled her hair, and dressed in her navy dress robes. She was prepared as she ever would be, and truthfully, could hardly contain her excitement. Debating on the grounds of such solid research (after all, she was the researcher) almost felt like cheating. The Council had placed poor Juno Portillo, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic as her debating adversary. Juno had belonged to Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts days. Her intellect and competency was unquestionable. But from Hermione's perspective Juno lacked two key additional characteristics needed in a debate-creativity and passion. As she used the Floo Network to enter Level Two and began walking toward Courtroom Eight, she practiced her opening argument in her head.

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shackelbolt, seated middle of the front row, stood tall before the Wizengamot Council of about fifty mumbling witches and wizards. To his right sat Head of Magical Law Enforcement Brian Williamson, and to his left, Chief Warlock Elphias Doge. In an authoritative voice he began the meeting. "Members of the Wizengamot Council, today marks a new chapter in Wizarding Britain's history. Gone are the ways of unilateral deliberation. This is the first Deliberate Assembly of the Wizengamot Council to partake in a Formal Discussion. The topic of discussion will be the validity of enacting a proposed Marriage Law." Shackelbolt turned to his left. "Chief Warlock Doge will now reside over the rules."

As Doge read through the five foot long list of regulations, Hermione only half-listened, as Malfoy had caught her attention. He too did not appear interested in the rules they had already read in the attachment to today's agenda. Reading aloud seemed to be a frivolous formality. He seemed rather interested in the attendance as his eyes moved from face to face. When it was her turn to become his moment of study, he sent her a bemused smirk. It puzzled her, but she had no time to reason why as Chief Warlock Doge was now addressing her.

"Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, as representative for the opposition of the Council's proposed solution to our declining population, please step forward and present your wand for identification." Hermione did as told.

Chief Warlock Doge then cleared his throat before announcing, "In lieu of a fair debate, the Council has decided that because Ms. Granger is the head writer of her proposal, it is only fitting that the head writer of our proposal be her verbal adversary." There were soft gasps and murmurs among the members as witches and wizards wondered if changing what was listed on the agenda was legal. Shackelbolt looked affronted but remained motionless. Hermione was sure there would be amendments to the five foot list of regulations soon. "If I could have your attention please, I may continue." The room hushed. "As head writer of the Marriage Law, Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy will represent the Council's proposal in place of Madam Juno Adrianna Portillo. Mr. Malfoy, please step forward and present your wand for identification." Malfoy gave a brief, piercing glance to Hermione before stepping to the center, wand in hand. Realization hit her. Harry had warned her of lingering corruption. The Wizengamot had never intended for Juno to debate; it had always been Malfoy. He was studying the room so he could play to his audience. Hermione's self-assurance waivered slightly. She had been overconfident. With Juno, she was on an even playing field. It would have been a battle of intellect based on facts. Not with Malfoy. He knew how to draw in a crowd, and because it was the _Wizengamot's_ proposal and she was _opposing_ it, he already had the majority on his side. This was no longer a battle of researched facts. She would have to adjust her arguments so she would not appear as encyclopedic in juxtaposition to his Slytherin charm. Based on personality, she was on the losing side.

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Juno Portillo stood up. "As everyone in the Council has been given both proposals a week prior to today, I must point out the needless redundancy in going over either proposal. The purpose, representatives," Juno eyed both Hermione and Draco, "is to provide sound arguments for your case so our Council can provide a fair and unbiased decision to answer our population decline. You have read and heard the rules of this formal discussion. Do you both consent to abide by those rules?" Both parties nodded. "Good, then we may begin. Mr. Malfoy, if you please?" With that, Juno waved her wand and two podiums emerged from the floor, set up so Hermione and Draco would face one another. Draco took command of his space and stepped away from the podium, addressing the crowd.

"Esteemed Witches and Wizards, I stand before you now with the answer to our declining population. The lack of marriages and birthrates will have drastic ramifications to our culture, schools, monetary system, and even survival of our kind. Can you imagine a future without a Wizarding Britain? As I scan the room, I see a congregation of Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and even Hufflepuffs." Hermione made note that he slighted the Hufflepuffs. "Can you imagine a Great Britain without Hogwarts? Not to mention the decline in monetary movement as we age and leave the workforce, earning a well deserved retirement-who will continue in our stead? And worse of all, what will happen to our culture, so well preserved these three hundred plus years? We have survived the First Wizarding War, now we must adapt to survive again. As you have read, the Marriage Law proposal will solve this problem. Within a year, our population will raise thirty percent. By five years we will flourish and Wizarding Britain will have forgotten there was ever an issue. This is the simple answer, as I trust you, specially selected members of the Council, will conclude." Draco turned to walk back to his podium and met Granger's eyes expectantly. There were soft murmurs and purple waves of robes as the members whispered to one another and paged through the Marriage Law scroll.

Granger glared with the same calculating look Draco had experience once before. This time he was prepared, and she got nothing from him. She followed his example and stepped away from the podium to address her audience. "We are here today because we need to address our population decline. However, forced partnership, which is what the Marriage Law is, is not the answer, nor is it a simple one. Mr. Malfoy addressed a need for survival of our culture. I encourage you to consider this—our youth, almost all of Hogwarts, aurors, any witch or wizard with questioning blood status and the Order of the Phoenix, are growing up skilled fighters as the direct result of years of combating Death Eaters, and their leader, Tom Riddle." From the corner of her eye she saw Harry sit up. She knew he would have liked her using Voldemort's birth name. "Our youth are tired of taking on adult responsibilities. They wish to grasp their stolen childhoods. And because the proposed law will only affect them, I suggest we placate them instead of antagonize them with forced marriages. That is why I propose we encourage a Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners. If our youth are given a choice as to who they partner, then the rest of our problems will fall in line." She walked back to the podium and nodded to Draco.

He stood in place and responded with a calculated prejudice. "Ms. Granger would have you believe that our kind will have no issue finding partners if the ministry _encourages_ these outlined activities. I will read them aloud now: _Polyjuice Speed Dating_ , _Owline Dating_ , and an _Intermural Quidditch League_. Correct me if I'm wrong, Ms. Granger, but aren't all three of these activities based on Muggles' ways to find partners? It seems to me, that your answer to preserving culture is to change it completely. Perhaps our youth do wish to delay adulthood, but I sincerely doubt they wish to adopt Muggle customs." Several older members chuckled outright.

"I'm sure this seems strange to you, Mr. Malfoy, considering your pure-blood lineage. I can't help but notice how many clauses in the proposed Marriage Law have pure-blood ideologies. I am providing ways for our youth to meet voluntarily. Sure, I may have derived some ideas from Muggles, but I have adjusted them to fit our ways. Your clauses are directly copied from pure-blood arranged marriage customs, which means if the law is enforced, Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and pure-bloods that have opted _not_ to follow this archaic tradition will have no choice otherwise." Draco noticed there was finally murmuring from the members in favor of Granger. "Besides, there are only twenty-eight pure-blood families in Wizarding Britain as opposed to the hundreds of Muggle-born and half-blood ones. If this law was passed, you might have an anarchy on your hands."

"Careful, Ms. Granger. Your words sound threatening," interrupted Chief Warlock Doge.

"They do not mean to be, Sir. I am only stating that if the mass of the witches and wizards disagree with their government over a law they feel unjust, they will, by any means necessary, fight that law." Members once again mumbled to one another. Draco noticed she was turning opinions.

"With the exception of the Second Wizarding War, this has never happened before, Ms. Granger," Head of Magical Law Enforcement Williamson assured.

"Our youth are skilled fighters that have learned to organize. I would not put it past them to do it again, if they are forced into abiding by something against their will," Granger countered.

"Are you insinuating that the Ministry of Magic cannot control its people? That is our first obligation," Williamson informed.

"No, the first obligation of the Ministry is to protect its citizens. Forgive me for mentioning this, as most members who played a part are no longer here, but had the Ministry done its job, we could have prevented a Second Wizarding War. Umbridge, Scrimgeour, and Fudge have taught our youth to distrust authority." The room erupted. Draco could not believe what little tact Granger had. She was making this hard for him.

"Silence!" beamed Shackelbolt, and the room quieted as though he had cast _silencio_. "Ms. Granger, I will encourage you to continue the debate without breaking Clause 1 of _Rules and Regulations for Formal Discussion_ which states, 'Both parties shall remain civil and not attack the character of others.'"

"Yes Sir," Granger replied. Draco sighed internally. That bushy-haired witch had to be so infuriating, even when he was trying to concede. She was beginning to win their verbal combat, and instead she attacked the Ministry? Even Potter, seated second row, was nodding in agreement to her comments. He would never understand why Gryffindors had such tunnel vision when it came to fighting for justice.

Senior Undersecretary Madam Portillo announced, "It is time for closing arguments. Mr. Malfoy, you may begin."

"Thank you, Madam Portillo. Council, I have come before you with a simple proposal based on wizarding customs which have worked for centuries. Ms. Granger wishes to invite our citizens to get to know one another. Her solution to our problem will not guarantee procreation. With few adjustments, the Marriage Law proposal has been adapted to meet the needs of all witches and wizards. It is the solution to our demise." Draco purposefully closed the argument short, and to the point. He left enough holes for Granger to take control.

"Ms. Granger, with the rules in mind, your closing argument please."

"Thank you. Members of the Wizengamot Council, this meeting was called so the Ministry can move forward enacting laws that best serve its citizens. I want you to strongly consider the repercussions of forcing partnerships, and forcing procreation. Our problem is not a new one, and history has never shown success when forcing the will of its people. The war has taken a great toll on our youth. Our generation is different because we have experienced death, desperation, depression, and unspeakable sadness." With that she turned to Malfoy. "We wish to erase memories from our mind, and remedy the past so we can confront our future." She turned back to the crowd, "We will not have time to heal if we are forced to be with someone in which we did not choose to take that journey with. I urge you to consider the positive. Give our youth a chance to heal on their own, or find the support they need. Until this, we will not be ready to move forward. The Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners is _the_ answer to our needs."

"I believe, with both proposals before us, and after hearing representatives from the opposing parties, our Council is ready for adjournment. We will continue after a ten minute break in which Ms. Granger will not be joining us as she is not a Council member." Doge magically banged his mallet and several members began moving about to discuss with others.

Harry made his way to Hermione and hugged her. "I think you did great," he smiled. "The witches around me seemed excited about your outlines for meeting others."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, but what about the bigger picture? Did they notice the impact of giving us a choice will be far more positive?" Harry shrugged. Ten minutes passed swiftly and Hermione waited, abandoned outside Court Eight. She sat on a bench across from the courtroom doors, and looked down at her wand. Her wait was shorter than expected as she looked up eagerly to the sound of an opened door. Draco Malfoy emerged to sit beside her.

"It was decided that 'in lieu of a fair decision,' if one representative could not be present, neither could," Draco explained. He plopped himself on the bench beside her.

Granger smiled slightly. "Was that Kingsley's decision?"

"Of course."

They sat in silence a moment, both staring into the courtroom doors before Draco continued softly, "We wish to erase memories from our mind and remedy the past so we can confront our future."

Hermione stiffened slightly and replied in an even softer voice, "I was wondering what you thought of that."

He scoffed. "I thought it was a low blow, Granger. Rather Slytherin of you, actually, to try to throw me off my game by openly demonstrating you knew my secret."

"I was also wondering if you knew I was a Legilimens. I guess that answers it." She turned to face him. "I'm sorry I invaded your mind like that. Honestly, I just wanted to know why you were in the closet. In my defense, I still don't know and you looked too suspicious."

"Granger, you could make your life so much easier if you stopped wondering about everything all the time." His eyes moved up to her hair. "That and learning some basic haircare charms. Sometimes you make it so obvious you are Muggle-born. I would solicit my mother to help you just to relieve my eyes from that mop of hair, but our pure-blood ways would lend her to think I find you marriage material. I would _loathe_ to enter a discussion like that with my parents."

"I don't know if I should be insulted, or sift through your obvious attempt to change the subject and detour back to our original topic." She smiled at him, playfully. It was odd, conversing with Malfoy sans antagonism.

"There you go again, wondering." He did not smile back, but the way his eyes traced her face made Granger slightly uncomfortable.

"You don't want the law to pass any more than I do," she finally realized.

"For the brightest witch of our age, you don't catch on to subtlety well. What finally gave it away?"

"You never answer my questions, Malfoy. Why should I answer yours?" At that, their conversation was interrupted by the opening of the courtroom doors. Hermione stood, eager to hear the verdict while Draco sat, pondering how one conversation could so drastically change how he saw a person.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 Enacting the Verdict

The verdict was in favor of Granger's proposal, much to the relief of Draco. He knew there were still many witches and wizards who, because of their age, could afford to consider the alternative. Thankfully the majority of the Council saw the sense to choice over force, if not for the benefit of the younger generations than for their own self-preservation against an uprising to a passed marriage law. Although the Council conceded to Hermione's campaign proposal over _their_ solution, the blow to the ego of many amongst the Wizengamot was made apparent through the provisions placed on the Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners campaign. The Ministry decided, based on Hermione's research, that the campaign would be enacted for eighteen months before an "evaluation of progress" would be assessed by the Council for reevaluation. If there were not positive results, quantified by a 30% increase in marriages and 10% increase in birthrates by the one-and-a-half year mark, then the Wizengamot would be allowed to create their own plan to increase population _without_ debate from outside parties.

A further response was that the Wizengamot formed the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs to oversee the execution of the campaign in a blatant effort to prevent Granger from being in charge of her own plan. As a final show of fortitude against Kingsley's Ministry renovation, the Council wished to set an example to all _future representatives_ who dare oppose a Wizengamot proposed law. As a passive aggressive move, they placed Granger's nemesis, Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy as Head of the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs based on his desire to preserve magical customs (which he showcased in his detailed clauses and noble representation of the failed marriage law). Their underlying assumption was that Mr. Malfoy would sabotage the campaign.

Only four days after the proclamation from the Council, Draco marched into his Head Office on the newly built tenth floor. He appointed an Undersecretary to the Head of Magical Cultural Affairs, Data Clerk, and two Campaign Managers. His secret weapon was his consultant, with whom he would meet outside of the Ministry's watchful eye. With a team of five efficient witches and wizards, Draco was sure he would successfully achieve the goal set by the Council. His first task was to meet with the consultant.

Hermione, after a night of celebrating with Harry, Ron, and a black-eyed Ginny (she wore her Quidditch bruise with honor and had refused to use bruise removal paste), stumbled through the emerald green flames and walked out of her fireplace to enter her cozy cottage. Slightly inebriated and still euphoric, it took her a brief moment before she realized the tapping she heard was coming from her window and was not the beginning of a pounding headache. An intimidating pair of perfectly round pumpkin orange eyes glared at Hermione. She opened her window, but the eagle owl, be it from pride or annoyance of her tardiness, did not step in. Instead it delivered the intended message and clipped at her fingers before flying away. Hermione was too happy to allow a surly bird change her mood. She opened the letter. It read:

Granger, per your request, you may be a consultant to the VSCP campaign. Per my request, we always meet outside the Ministry. Your presence is necessitated tonight as I need to push the marketing campaign by five pm tomorrow. The attached is a portkey. Activate it soon; I have other plans tonight.

"Well, you didn't even bother signing your name, Malfoy. That's not a very classy move for a highly sophisticated pure-*hiccup* blood," Hermione criticized aloud to her empty room. She was a smart enough witch to know she needed a sip or two of her Wit-Sharpening Potion before portkeying to Malfoy.

Although it was not Malfoy Manor, she immediately recognized that she was in a rather luxurious dwelling. Malfoy approached her and said, "The sooner you stop gawking at my place, Granger, the sooner we can begin." She turned to him with a frown and sat on his sofa, rubbing her hands across its surface.

"What is this material? It's so soft."

"It's Hebridean Black hide, enchanted to bring out the more savage qualities of whomever sits upon it." Malfoy smirked at her, awaiting her reaction.

"You mean this sofa is made from dragon hide? Malfoy, I will have you reported to—"

"And that is exactly what I expected from you, Granger. Even your savage side is a prude." He walked over to a long Elmwood table. "Let's sit here. We have much to do. From what I understand, you have devised a sorting hat, much like Hogwarts to match us with compatible partners. Please elaborate."

Hermione ignored his "prude" comment for the greater purpose and moved to sit across from him. "Yes, well, when I had decided to become a Legilimens, I went to the library to research legilimancy further and I remembered reading from _Hogwarts: A History_ that the sorting hat works like a Legilimens. I figured we could use a variation of the Hogwarts sorting hat to create an algorithm for matching people."

"Granger, you can't _force_ a match. I thought you would know this," he commented sarcastically. "Our kind want to pick and choose just as much as Muggles."

"Just allow me to finish, Malfoy." She paused to see if he would obey. Draco bit his tongue and she continued, "There are slightly less than 1,000 single witches and wizards that can be matched. However, that changes when we dis-aggregate by preference. The sorting hat will be able to dis-aggregate for us."

They discussed anonymity among the witches and wizards to promote faster relationships through candidacy, and to prevent biases, especially between Hogwarts alumni of differing houses. Logistically, they mapped out the scheduling for the "Anonymity Hat" in which willing participants could have themselves assigned an anonymous name and owled a list of matches they could pursue whether for friendship or a possible relationship. The next phase would be ways in which witches and wizards could meet one another and it was threefold. Here, Draco noted, Granger had found ways to accelerate the dating process. It was quite clever, in his opinion. Their conversation remained on task for a good two hours before Granger departed his mansion via Floo Network.

Speaking with Granger was a phenomenon. She spoke with conviction, and without hidden agendas. It was something he was struggling to comprehend after decades of learning the art of manipulation. He often found himself searching her face for tells of another motive, but could find none. The longer they conversed, the more her passion and frankness confused him. More so, she never once brought up his inner turmoil that she had witnessed firsthand. Any of his friends would have jumped at the chance to blackmail or ridicule him with such knowledge. He grew up with hatred and prejudices, holding grudges and manipulating to get ahead, putting blood even before family. Granger was none of that. She campaigned for justice, fought for the defenseless, was loyal, and forgave with very little question. She was everything that he was not, and held all the qualities he never realized could exist in one person. By the early morning, after spending most of the night thinking of her, Draco incredulously admitted to himself that he coveted Hermione Granger.

Over the next month, 76% of the single witches and wizards of Great Britain partook in the Anonymity Hat Ceremony. The large turnout was mostly in part of the Golden Trio using their clout with the public to promote it. Although Harry and Ginny were as good as engaged, Harry saw the benefits of meeting new friends and spun the innocuous angle to the campaign. Ron, the eligible bachelor and favorite subject of _Witch Weekly_ had pompously announced he would be participating in the process with the hope of finding his true love. His flirtatious smirk made the cover of all forms of media and overnight the campaign was a publicity success among witches hoping to snag Ron and wizards realizing the mass number of witches looking for love was in their favor. Hermione was the most reserved. She took a logical approach and interviewed with Sky Lee from the _Daily Prophet_ outlining all the benefits of the campaign by finding support groups and meaning to life after so much loss from the war. She reiterated that the anonymity would only last as long as the participants determined, once trust in character was established. She was quoted saying, "By starting with anonymity, witches and wizards might be pleasantly surprised to find they have common core beliefs or experiences with someone they may have never even looked at twice." In the end, the Trio's three vastly different approaches touched a wide audience with fruitful results.

As outlined, the hat sorted the seven hundred plus witches and wizards and listed their available matches. Whether it be to make new friends or begin a romantic relationship was up to the partakers. By the start of the second month, Polyjuice Speed Dating was introduced. Seven nights with a little over one hundred witches and wizards each night met in the Great Ballroom (funding for the construction provided by the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs) in Diagon Alley where they took Polyjuice Potions plucked from Muggle hairs which reflected their current age. Any other similarity was highly coincidental. The participants, with permission, were politely hexed so they could not reveal their true identity. The purpose of the Polyjuice was to embolden conversations of substance over superficial flirting based on mutual attraction, as well as eliminate biases that would have existed otherwise had the parties involved known their true identities.

Hermione was one of the first to enter the Great Ballroom as her scheduled potion time was 6:45pm. Prior to entrance, she had glanced at her form in the mirror and could not stifle her laughter. She could not have selected a more opposite face and figure. Her hair was strawberry blonde, straight, tame and soft. The mirror reflected ocean blue eyes and pouty pink lips. Her bottom was twice its usual size and her breasts were equally well endowed. Upon spinning and giving her body a once over, she could not help but wonder if this was the Muggle's true form, or if Polyjuice Potion was able to replicate surgically enhanced procedures. She feared the purpose of the Polyjuice was ill advised if everyone looked like this.

Draco's potion time was the last round and took place at 7:15pm. Disappointment shown on his reflected face of fine blonde hair and green eyes with a slender athletic build. It was as if this Muggle was a Seeker. Aside from a more rounded face, it irked him to resemble his true form so closely, and only hoped others would not see through him. He entered the Great Ballroom and immediately scanned for Granger. It took a second before he realized he wasn't looking for a puff of brown hair. The whole concealment setup really would challenge his ability to cipher out his object.

Because Polyjuice Potion is time restrictive, around 7:30pm, after the hundred plus participants for the night had made their rounds and enjoyed hors d'oeuvres, the speed dating portion of the night commenced. The witches sat at a table and waited for a wizard to approach her for six five-minute rounds then would rotate and initiate the meetings while the wizards sat for an additional six five-minute rounds. (Same sex partnerships had its own reserved night.) By the end of the night, each witch and wizard would have conversed with a minimum of twelve others with a hopeful start to a budding relationship.

Hermione reluctantly sat and awaited her first wizard. He approached her with a hunger in his eyes and she knew this conversation would be doomed from the start. He seemed to have forgotten everyone had taken a Polyjuice Potion. Strike one, he was a dummy.

"Hello Beautiful. And what might your name be?" he tried to smile seductively.

"It's Amina. What's yours?" Hermione did not return the flirtation.

"It's B—" the wizard began coughing profusely and turning beet red.

Hermione quickly grabbed the Cough Potion on the table for him to swallow. "Here, drink this, it will negate the hex. Please remember not to use your true name."

He gratefully gulped it down and magically the cough disappeared. "Thanks, Love. Now where were we?" His eyes drifted downward to her chest. Hermione had never been a sexual object before. It was as off-putting as she had imagined it. "My name is B—" the coughing began again, but Hermione left him to what little wit he had to find the Cough Potion which was charmed to refill on the table. A bell chimed and Hermione found herself looking for an escape.

Six unsuccessful tries, and Draco sat brooding at his table. What would be the likelihood Granger would seek him? He knew a meeting between the two of them now would be nothing short of a miracle. He scowled through five "dates" and could not wait for the night to end.

A voluptuous blonde approached his table. "Hello, I'm Amina. By the look on your face, we have had similar experiences tonight, and I wouldn't mind sharing your gloomy mood with a taciturn conversation for the next five minutes." The witch had a seductive body and he wondered how much of it was transferable to her real self. She sat when he made no comment save kicking her chair out with his left foot. "Ever the gentleman, I see." He could tell she didn't like him, and was going to make no attempt to converse had he not watched her caress her left forearm.

Draco sat up. "My name is Daniel. I apologize for the rudeness. You did nothing to deserve it. If you don't mind, I opt not for a 'taciturn conversation', though I can appreciate the humor of those words together." He smiled politely, with Slytherin intent.

"Thank you for the appreciation." The witch gave him a calculated look, and Draco chuckled knowing Granger was a cheater, probably casting _legilimancy_ at that very moment.

Draco was taught at a young age occlumency. He was skilled at preventing a Legilimens from accessing his thoughts, feelings, and memories. He was powerful enough that he could not only block a Legilimens, but he could also manipulate what one could see or interpret when delving into his mind. He finally had the upper hand on Granger, and after a month of coveting all of her, he was going to use his skill to his advantage. He pictured the witch before him (not Granger as that would reveal his secret) cuddled in his arms on his bed under black satin sheets as he caressed her hair while reading to her from _Hogwarts: A History_. (Later he would chastise himself for not choosing a more romantic book, but at the moment that was all that he could imagine.)

Granger gasped. Her eyes widened and she began to blush becomingly. Draco wished it was her real face before him. Suddenly the bell chimed to end their five minute session. He quickly grabbed her face and kissed her softly but briefly before he pulled away. "Thank you for a wonderful date."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Owline Dating

Hermione sat in her pajamas with a cup of hot tea in one hand and _The Daily Prophet_ in the other. She had yet to begin her Saturday morning ritual of devouring the contents of the paper because her mind kept wondering to the events of the night previous. She touched her lips in remembrance of the kiss. She couldn't comprehend it. At first he was cold, then welcoming. What had changed his attitude? When she tried to sift through his mind he unwittingly allowed her into his thoughts and she discovered he had fantasized about _reading_ to her. Reading _Hogwarts: A History_ no less! Until last night, she was certain her love for that book was unparalleled. However, as a member of the Golden Trio, she was often sought out by greedy wizards wishing to use her fame to their benefit. She kept searching her mind for any wizard beside Ron and Harry that knew the depth of appreciation she had for that book. Was it possible a wizard might have known it was her and was trying to manipulate the date? After a few minutes she dismissed her paranoia. Nobody but Malfoy knew she was a Legilimens, and he had already mentioned once, outside Court Eight, that he did not see her as marriage material. Besides, the Anonymity Hat had grouped the most compatible witches and wizards for each night of Polyjuice Speed Dating, so it should not be so odd that she found a fellow book lover. Hermione just never imagined it was so precise.

By the time her tea had cooled to room temperature, she was able to focus once more and reread the front page headline: _Polyjuice Speed Dating a Magical Cultural Affairs Success_. The article was written by none other than Rita Skeeter, so naturally it was riddled with twisted information and inaccuracies. To begin, Skeeter credited the Wizengamot Council with foreseeing "Wizarding Britain's dire need to come together as one, and creating the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs" as its answer. She continued their praise and aptitude by recognizing "the brains behind it all, the Head of the newly appointed Office, Mr. Draco Malfoy, who so cleverly outlined the Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners campaign." As she continued to peruse the article, bitterly reading her words and ideas unjustly ascribed to Malfoy, her anger grew exponentially. She had to perpetually remind herself that the article was by Rita Skeeter, and Malfoy very well could have accredited her. There was mention of a Polyjuice Ballroom Dance which Hermione had never discussed with Malfoy. She was sure there was truth to the event since affluent Malfoy was a socialite at heart, and the date nights had been advantageously positive. The article ended with Skeeter asking Malfoy if he was looking for love. His response was, "Love comes in so many varieties, and we are programmed to accept it. Witches and wizards participating in the VSCP campaign need only surrender to the Love around them." Hermione read and reread the final lines of the article, wondering what truth, if any, lay behind his marketing words.

Over the past month, meeting with Malfoy had been a surprisingly pleasant event. On her gradient scale of acquaintances, he was creeping closer and closer to what she would define as a friend. He seemed to enjoy her presence as well. At least, that is what she perceived, but Hermione had found her social deficiencies left her with an ineptitude of knowing when she was disliked. Every once in a while, the most miniscule of a thought of him romantically snuck into her forethoughts. Embarrassed, she would quickly dismiss it. However, after last night's "date," the notion of a romantic Malfoy was cast aside and replaced by the idea of Daniel. The thought was short lived as Hermione remembered Ron was dropping by and quickly dressed.

Ron floo'd in within minutes of Hermione pulling her hair into a bun. He walked over to kiss her cheek in greeting and they began a chat about their successes last night. "So, what did you look like last night, 'Mione? I had a tall muscular build. It made me want to lift some weights afterward. Still do, come to think of it."

Hermione laughed. "Well then, we definitely did not meet each other last night. I was the short strawberry blonde with big assets."

Ron's eyes widened. "I saw you! I was going to introduce myself, but all the guys around me described you as 'uninviting', to put it pleasantly. I didn't want to spoil my night."

She laughed once more. "I take it you had a successful match?"

"More than one, actually. Good thing the owline started this morning. I posted my profile and wrote to two of the women I saw last night. I hope they post soon. Were you the one that invented the charmed parchment? I signed it Ron and my signature erased immediately. I kept resigning it until I realized I needed to use my pseudonym. I figured that was your work." He walked into her kitchen and then back out with a croissant in hand.

"It was. Although Rita Skeeter would have you believe it was all Malfoy's."

"Oh yeah, I was wondering what you thought of that. She is full of it." Ron took a bite. "Just remember all the lies she wrote about you and Harry. I can't believe I am defending Malfoy of all people, but he seems to not be the antagonistic prat he was before the war, and he really is executing all your ideas well." Ron was not privy to the secret partnership Hermione and Malfoy had formed for mutually beneficial reasons.

There was a tap at the window. Hermione recognized the southern white-faced Ministry owl as one recently purchased by the new office. "This must be an owline message for you, Ron," Hermione stated as she opened her window. The owl flew in, pecked at Ron's half eaten breakfast, and dropped the letter on Hermione's table before swiftly flying off.

"They must be working overtime already. I hear Malfoy had to create an Owline Caregiver position because it was just too much." He eagerly walked to the table. "'Mione, you were wrong. This isn't for me, it's for you. You didn't tell me you met someone," at that Ron lifted his eyebrows up and down at her.

She playfully hit his shoulder before taking the owline message. "If you don't mind, I will read this later, in private."

"You are postponing reading? Oh, this is big. What did the bloke do? Did he talk about _Hogwarts: A History_?" Ron chuckled at his own joke, but Hermione stood motionless. "Wait, he _did_ talk about _Hogwarts: A History_? Blimey, 'Mione, I thought you were the only one that liked that book! I will leave you to your letter then," he proclaimed quite amused. "I hope the witches I met last night blush as prettily as you when they receive my messages. See you at work on Monday." Ron kissed her cheek and left the same way in which he came.

The moment she was alone she tore open the letter and ravished the words on the parchment. It read:

 _Dear A,_

 _I thoroughly enjoyed our little repartee last night. It was unfortunate that it was not our true lips that touched when I stole a kiss. Nevertheless, I regret nothing. Tell me I will see you again at next week's Polyjuice Ballroom Dance. I hope to confiscate much more from you that night._

 _Your Thief,_

 _D._

Hermione touched her lips, flushed. Seduction by a verbose stranger was enticing and new. She would never admit it to anyone (primarily because she never considered herself that type of witch), but five short minutes and a lascivious letter was all it took for her to fall for a wizard.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 The Malfoys

Draco purposely signed the first initial of his name instead of signing _Daniel_. He didn't favor the concealment, but he wasn't a friendly Hufflepuff, who would gladly reveal his name in an effort of finding favor, or a practical Ravenclaw who would choose the most logical, direct path. He especially wasn't a Gryffindor with his heart on his sleeve willing to bare all without considering the consequences. He was a Slytherin. He would expose himself when he had secured her affections, when he was guaranteed victory.

He had watched the owl fly away and wondered if his flirtatious letter would cross the line with Granger. His connections in the MLE informed him that she rarely dated, and even those were short lived. But he couldn't help his desire to be around her. During the war and up until now, Draco had been in a penitent limbo. Every attempt he had made to move forward was always denied by a remnant from his past, be it seeing Katie Bell on his first day of work at the Ministry, or running into Granger and accidently exposing his true emotions. However, his charm and successful elevations within the Ministry of Magic served their purpose as a veneer to his inner struggles. No one suspected Draco went to bed overcome with guilt more nights than not because he never showed it. Granger was the opposite. Her passion for life which she openly displayed was infectious. He did not even need to speak to her, proximity alone rescued him from melancholy. He longed to know what kissing infectious passion felt like. He hoped she would respond in the positive to his owline message.

Saturday brunch with his parents happened once a month. The gardens at Malfoy Manor were unparalleled, but few were privileged to its beauty. Narcissa Malfoy was a changed witch following the war. Before the war, she invited guest after guest in an ostentatious showing of her immaculate landscaping. Now, she had little desire for the frivolities she once sought out and coveted. With her pompousness corroded away, she gardened for her own peace of mind, and because she was a Malfoy, that peace of mind was a vulnerability, thus a secret. No Malfoy was weak.

On the outside, Lucius Malfoy struggled the most of the three post-war. His exemption from Azkaban garnered ill-favor and resentment from his "collegues" that had served. He wasn't "only a child" like Draco, or "the witch that lied to Voldemort" like Narcissa. He was simply the father and husband of the two-an identity that was truthful but not how he defined himself. The first post-war year was a struggle for redefining himself and the Malfoy name. In the process, he discovered his business savvy and had a newfound pleasure in controlling others from an investment perspective, rather than threatening lives. Although successful, even three years later, he was the least liked Malfoy.

This Saturday brunch found all three Malfoys in high spirits as Lucius and Narcissa praised Draco's swift promotion to Head of the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs. He absorbed their praise and answered their questions with alacrity, even when Lucius questioned the unconventional campaign. Draco was able to deflect suspicion of Muggle influence over the ideas of owline dating and Polyjuice Speed Dating. Satisfied, his father directed his new line of inquiry towards profiting by outsourcing the owline dating to a new, private company.

"Father, the whole concept of the owline dating is to rebuild and improve relationships."

"Funny, I thought the objective was to find your perfect match through anonymity. It's genius actually, being able to be openly deceptive about who you are," Lucius stated as he flicked his wand to remove the purple sprouting broccoli from the bed of his poached egg. He would have a word with Booky, the house-elf chef, later. "However, as the Head of Magical Cultural Affairs, you can control the regulations of any company or companies that spring up."

Draco paused in awareness. He had been so engrossed in Granger that he had failed to combat her Gryffindor perspective with a Slytherin one. It took only one month of conversing for him to lose himself. The realization frightened him.

A Southern White-faced Ministry Owl swooped down to their table and quickly snacked on a piece of purple sprouting broccoli before delivering the letter in her talons to Draco's lap. "Is that one of the _owline_ messenger owls?" Narcissa asked her son.

"Yes Mother," Draco answered, apprehensive of the line of questioning soon to follow.

"Why did you not purchase Eagle Owls, Son? They are the far superior messengers. Further proof lies on the plate of half eaten purple sprouting broccoli. Such poor taste in a bird." Lucius sneered condescendingly.

"We had to mass order, Father, and a messenger owl company in Uganda was the only place that could fill my order promptly."

"Have you been corresponding with an eligible witch, Draco?" Narcissa inquired, her curiosity peaked. "I didn't realize you were looking." She took a sip of a beverage Draco could not identify. "Do you need a private moment to read your letter?"

"No, Mother, it's nothing."

"If it is nothing, then you may read it aloud to us," Lucius challenged.

"I do not know the contents, nor the sender. It may have words ill-suited for a family brunch." Although Draco had learned to lie convincingly at an early age, his mother always saw through it. Narcissa eyed him suspiciously. She had tried to match her son through the pure-blood traditional ways. He refused her every attempt. She was intrigued by what kind of witch could attract her precious son.

Lucius chuckled, misunderstanding the situation. "I had not considered the promiscuity anonymity permitted as well, since I am happily married." He put his hand on his wife's. "Perhaps you should filter letters so such atrocious behavior cannot be allowed."

Draco spoke without thought. "No need, Father, Granger craftily charmed all owline dating parchments." He ceased speaking immediately, quickly glancing at his parents before finding interest in his scrambled eggs and in an attempt to cover his behavior, redirected the conversation. "The revenue from the –"

"Draco, did you say Granger? The Mudblood tortured in our Manor, Granger?' Although cautious against airing his prejudice in public, war did little to change his father's ideology.

"She is Undersecretary to the Head of MLE, Father. It is nearly impossible to not have to work with her in some aspect. Besides, with the changes in public opinion, I think it wise to be on diplomatic terms with the only competent third of the Golden Trio. I have ambitious plans, as you know. She might be useful in the future." He wondered if his father could sift through his lies.

"I see… Well, continue the contact but keep your distance. Public opinion is fickle." Lucius commanded his son and accepted Draco's nod in response.

Narcissa observed in quiet reflection. As much as she loved Lucius, Draco was her pride and joy. She saw the minute change in his eyes and heard the slight decibel shift in his voice as he talked about _her_. But she had learned, in the hardest way possible, that anything other than knowing he was safe and alive was a luxury. As tempted as she was to uncover the truth between her son and the _Muggle-born_ , she reminded herself that she was gifted with a healthy, live child—a gift so many of her former friends could not boast of having. She would wait before uncovering the whole truth, for now. She allowed the conversation to ebb and flow without her, basking in the sun that warmed her gardens while her wizards' discussions warmed her heart.

Two hours later, Draco apparated home, all too impatient to tear open the letter. It read,

 _Dear Daniel,_

 _I enjoyed our date last night. Tell me what you look like. I am a 19-year-old witch that is great at divination. I have a fit body and pretty face too. I can read your future some time, if you like._

 _OM,_

 _Yancy_

A deluge of disappointment could not aptly describe his emotional state. He sunk on a plush office chair as an insecurity snuck into his thoughts. Did he not see Ron kiss her cheek as they left work on Friday? As a peck on the cheek, he had thought nothing of it until now. Perhaps his connection in the MLE was not so trustworthy.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 Ginny

Hermione sat at her desk, perplexed, with a fully inked quill at her command for nearly half an hour. She had never been seduced before, and her lack of ability to respond to it lay on the blank, charmed parchment before her. She wondered what about her he had found so attractive, as she could not recollect saying or doing anything of substance that night. She touched her lips in remembrance once again. Why _had_ he kissed her?

Hermione could have sat indecisively much longer at her desk had she not had a prior engagement scheduled. She retouched her bun and put on her most durable robes before disapparating from her cottage to The Holyharp two minutes to twelve. The most famous Welsh Quidditch pub was located in the heart of Holyhead Harpies fandom. As she entered, she was accosted by loud cheers and green and gold. Moving images of Captain Gwenog Jones graced every wall. There was no question why it was Ginny's favorite spot to unwind. She spotted her only witch friend waving at her from a far bench and began walking through the excited crowd. As she neared, Hermione saw Ginny was not alone. Sitting across from her was a raven-haired witch with quite an athletic physique. She was talking to Ginny in a voice barely audible above the crowd.

"So if you can remember those pointers, we just might be teammates next season."

Ginny's smile lit up her whole face as she looked from her prospective future teammate, then to her friend. Her loves in life were Harry, Quidditch, and her family, respectively (although depending on the time of the year that order was subject to change). Hermione inferred her friend would soon play for more than just the National Team. The raven-haired witch followed Ginny's eyes and glanced up at Hermione.

"Valmai, I am sure you have never been introduced. This is _the_ Hermione Granger. Hermione, although you are no fanatic, I am sure you can appreciate the talent of Holyhead Harpies' number one chaser, Valmai Morgan."

Valmai stood and shook Hermione's hand, "It's an honor." Before Hermione could return her usual scripted reply when "honored" by someone she did not know, Valmai dismissed herself. "Weasley, I will leave you to it. Be sure to practice those drills." She gave Hermione a slight nod, then walked away. Members of the crowd began asking her to sign their Quidditch paraphernalia.

"I will Morgan. Thanks again," she waved goodbye to the back of Holyhead Harpies' star chaser. "How are you doing? It's been so long since we have talked, just us witches."

Hermione sat across from her vividly red-headed friend. "Well, since Harry tells you everything, why don't you tell me what it is you want to hear more about."

"Two butterbeers, please," Ginny directed to a passing barmaid. "Well, you're right about Harry. But there is something I found out from Ron, just an hour ago as a matter of fact. Why not tell me about your special night last night." Ginny grinned wickedly.

Hermione blushed. "Ron has always had a big mouth."

"Stop stalling." She fixed her bright brown eyes on her friend. A determined Ginny was an unstoppable force.

Resigned, Hermione looked down at her hands, "I met someone last night. He was charming and wrote to me this morning while Ron was visiting."

"I see. What's all this about _Hogwarts: A History_? I have to admit I thought you were the only one interested in that utterly boring read." As the youngest of seven, the ruckus crowd didn't seem to faze her concentration.

"That was just Ron making assumptions. He never mentioned the book." Hermione stopped fidgeting with her hands and faced them palm down on the table.

Ginny raised her wand, "Hermione Jean Granger, stop making me pull teeth to find out what happened or I will be forced to take drastic action!"

"Fine!" Hermione yelled over the cacophony. She didn't fear Ginny's hexes, as she was a quicker defensive spell caster. She conceded because in truth, she wanted to discuss her admirer. "Can we go someplace quieter, like my place?" Ginny nodded, and the two disappeared with a crack.

Hermione stood in the same spot she stood less than an hour earlier. Ginny apparated to her left about a meter away, not missing a moment. "So spill."

Hermione flicked her wand casting a silent _accio_. Her admirer's letter floated to her hand. "Here, you can read it yourself, bossy witch."

Two minutes later, Ginny looked up, wearing a serious expression. "He kissed you?" Her friend nodded. "Was it as good for you as he claims it was for him?"

"I don't know. Yes?" Hermione shifted from one foot to another.

"You don't know? _Yes?_ Now is not the time for bashfulness, Witch! Tell me about this kiss!" Ginny moved closer.

"It was unexpected! There was no buildup. It was just climactic." She sighed in frustration at her deficiency of words to describe the moment. "Yes, I enjoyed the kiss. Quite a bit. I keep thinking about it."

"Do you know who he is?"

"How would I? We were under Polyjuice Potion last night, and I have charmed the paper against handwriting recognition."

Ginny chuckled. "Too thorough for your own good this time. This letter is sexy. I had overheard a couple of witches gossiping about some kind of dance. That's the problem when you are in an established relationship. Harry doesn't even bother formally asking anymore. It's just, 'Ginny, should we eat beforehand?'" She floated the parchment back to Hermione. "What did you write in response?"

"I haven't opened a correspondence." She bit her lip nervously.

"Where is that Gryffindor courage?" Ginny laughed before continuing, "Allow me to help." She flicked her wand and the quill immediately began writing to her dictation. "Dear D,-" she paused and eyed Hermione. "I just had an awful thought. What if this wizard was kissing every date last night, and has written the same letter to every witch?"

It had been so long since Hermione had felt the anticipatory excitement attributed to the start of a romantic relationship. Her heart sank as she acknowledged the validity to Ginny's conjecture. "Perhaps I shall request we reveal ourselves at the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance?" Ginny's smile was all the agreement she sought. With a flick of her wand, her quill began to inscribe.

 _"Dear D, What a shame I have considered attending such a formal affair with a thief. Perhaps we can barter instead? I have no qualms with casting the necessary counterspells that night. In our true forms, I will not be as bothered by your thievery, as it will be an open deception. However, there will be nothing else so carelessly guarded other than my lips. To 'confiscate much more' will cost you your time. It might be more than you can afford, Thief._

 _I shall not sign the name I gave you the night previous as we both know it is a lie. I shall await your reply."_

A Ministry owl appeared at her window much to Hermione's surprise. She would have to ask Malfoy how he managed that. Malfoy. That was the second time a moment prompted her to think of him today. She opened the window and with a peck at her finger, as she had no food readily available, it grabbed the letter and flew off before the window magically closed.

"Oh Merlin!" Ginny yelled, smacking her forehead.

"What?" Hermione asked, turning away from the window to face her friend.

"I ordered butterbeers and then just disappeared. I hope that barmaid doesn't remember my face. It is sooo hard to get good service there." Hermione could not believe the direction the conversation took. "Stop looking at me like that. It's my favorite place and if I can't order whatever I please whenever I please, I will have to resort to drastic measures."

"Ginny, I—" Hermione was interrupted by a Southern White-faced owl tapping at her window.

"Wow, your thief is fast." Ginny opened the window as Hermione had quickly found a snack to offer. The owl graciously ate it before abandoning the letter in her hand. "Read it aloud!" Ginny excitedly commanded.

Hermione opened the letter and crimson flushed her face as she silently read it before handing it to Ginny. The letter contained five simple words formed in a potently passionate sentence:

 _Let me be your Future._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Her Realization

Draco's relief to Granger's affirmative response granted him the courage to write his flirtatious imperative. It also freed him from his worrisome state and enabled him to spend the remainder of his weekend working, of all things. His Sunday was interrupted only once (outside of his thoughts) by a familiar owl.

 _Draco,_

 _Upon my return from Italy I thought it would be I that would be updating you on qualifying Quidditch World Cup plays. Instead, I return to a very changed England, and you are at the heart of it. We should meet sooner than planned, as there is much explaining on your part that I do not wish postponed. Begin with how you were able to promote yourself not just one, but_ two _positions within one month. I can only imagine the praise your parents are lathering on you, like you need more affection._

 _Blaise_

Draco could practically hear the scoff from Blaise as he read the last sentence. He wrote back with an economic but efficient response inviting him to dinner Tuesday night.

Draco emerged from the Ministry elevator to Level Six early Monday morning and silently cast _muffliato_ before approaching Agrippa. "Ms. Featherstone, how are you this morning?"

The elder witch looked to Draco and smiled widely. "Mr. Malfoy, you will be pleased to know you are the talk of the town. I have collected several wooden boxes and have gathered what gossip I need from them. Would you care to have a few?"

As useful as the old witch was, Draco found her too contradictory to trust, even the slightest. "Ms. Featherstone, what is in it for you, when you share all this gossip with me so willingly?"

The witch actually cackled before answering, "Mr. Malfoy, I was housed in Ravenclaw, so allow me to appeal to your Slytherin attributes from my perspective. Gossip, if acquired properly, is knowledge. Knowledge is power. I have no doubt you will climb to the highest position within our Ministry, and as powerful as that makes you, you will still come to me for knowledge. Knowing this is greatly satisfying."

Draco decided not to dispute her, despite her inaccurate take on their situation and her importance. He half smiled and replied, "Well, your objective was met, Ms. Featherstone. I now understand you." He held out his hands to receive the wooden boxes before placing them inside his robe. He did not fail to notice that she did not give him all she had.

Upon stepping onto Level Ten, he mentally listed what needed to be done before lunch. He had to request additional funding for two more permanent positions in his office: Senior and Junior Event Organizers. He would also need to temporarily hire a minimum of five competent witches or wizards to provide counterspell casting at the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance. The thought had occurred to him late last night when he reread Granger's letter. Not everyone possessed her talent, and with such a young Ministry department, it was crucial magical mishaps did not befall their first grand event.

In his zeal of the immediate Office successes, he had spontaneously and prematurely announced an upcoming dance, in _The Prophet_ , no less. It made no sense, in hindsight, as the logistics to fulfilling all the marketing, food, staff, music (Could the Weird Sisters be booked?), lighting, and other miscellaneous tasks for such a social event required time and money foremost-both of which his department fell short of attaining, for the moment. Upon entering his department, he promptly met with his staff for their Monday morning briefing, delegating duties and deadlines. By the end of the meeting, an aeroplane carrying an interdepartmental memo landed on the parchment before him. He opened it reading the contents from Undersecretary Granger on behalf of the Head of the MLE in regards to security logistics for the upcoming dance. It was a request for a lunch meeting, to which he obliged, set his own demand and the location. As the memo flew back to Level Two, he wondered if Granger would be there.

Harry Potter knocked on Hermione's open door. His best friend looked up from her parchment she was studying and met him with an enthusiastic smile. "Harry, I was hoping you had time to stop by before lunch. Where's Ron?" She stood and walked over to hug him.

"He's coming. This space is a disaster, 'Mione. Are you sure it hasn't been hexed?" Harry levitated some items before a chair was cleared for use. "So Ginny came over for the weekend. You were a topic of discussion more than once."

"Merlin, is she talking about my admirer?" Hermione moved to her desk and began organizing the chaos. She preferred to clean up research parchments the Muggle way, so she could mentally catalog everything she had worked on.

"Yes. He has gotten me in trouble, as a matter of fact. Apparently I could learn a thing or two from him in the romance department." He slumped in his chair and as he lounged his legs out, hit the bottom corner of her desk. A small wooden box fell from the top corner, hitting the floor. Harry moved to pick it up, examining it.

Hermione laughed, "Don't worry, Harry. Ginny is your perfect witch, and she is far from high maintenance. She doesn't expect you to change; she has known you more than half her life. Just be a little thoughtful every now and then."

Harry was no longer listening to the sound advice. "'Mione, what do you keep in such a tiny box? Jewelry?" Hermione looked up and noticed the gift she had long forgotten.

"Oh! I had forgotten about that. It was a gift from some wizard "

"And you don't believe this wizard is the one courting you now? _Aparecium_. 'With admiration, Agrippa.'" Harry looked up at Hermione. "He chose to use the word 'admiration'. Sounds a lot like admirer to me."

"I agree with Harry on this one, 'Mione. You should try to find out who this Agrippa bloke is." Ron entered the office space, stepping over a pile of books. "Didn't I tell you that a month ago?"

"Actually, you told me to practice precaution, which is something I do daily." She smirked at him before accepting his kiss on her cheek.

"Well lucky you, I did some researching," Ron began.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You did some research!" She hugged him tightly.

"Hey now, 'Mione. We both know what happens when I exceed your expectations. With your admirer and my new love interest, I don't think either of us can afford a snogfest." Hermione punched him on the arm playfully and he continued. "There isn't a single wizard named Agrippa that works for the Ministry."

"Well that is odd, but not uncommon. Remember the flood of gifts we received our first year, working here?" She took the box Harry was holding out to her and placed it back on her now organized desk. "Are you two ready for our business luncheon?"

Ron and Harry snorted before Ron responded, "Yeah. I bet when Malfoy asked for the best he had not expected The Golden Trio. Seeing us is really going to make his day."

"I'll have you two know he has been doing a phenomenal job on my Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners campaign," she said with her hands on her hips.

"Come now, 'Mione," Harry chimed. "He debated _against_ you and _for_ the marriage law. He told Rita Skeeter the campaign was all his idea. As Head of the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs, of course he does not want to look bad. Tell me it doesn't bother you that someone else is getting all the credit for your hard work. Especially if that someone is _him_." Harry struggled to understand her defense for Malfoy.

"I can understand how you feel, but Harry, there is a lot you don't know. For starters, we all know what massive lies come out of Rita Skeeter's quill." Ron shrugged in agreement and even Harry acknowledged her observation. "And trust me when I tell you, he doesn't harbor those misguided prejudices he did as a boy. He is a changed man." Disbelief clouded their faces as she tried to convince them there was something redeemable in Draco Malfoy. "He even _apologized_ to me." The last statement was not a full truth, but Hermione found the white lie necessary to win their favor. She continued, "And to answer your question about whether it bothers me, of course it does! It was _my_ months of research, _my_ 'formal discussion' that won the votes, and _my_ successful campaign ideas! But if I remove my emotions from the scenario, then I won. The Ministry tried to control us and lost. They tried to strip me of any say in the matter, but everything that has happened thus far I have had a direct hand in. And as for the credit, everyone in power was present when I presented the campaign. I never wanted the publicity, Malfoy's face can be all over the media for all I care. So yeah, it bothers me, but I bet it bothers the Wizengamot more because I still win."

Ron and Harry just stared before Ron broke their silence. "Right, well we better be off. Where to?"

"We are flooing to Diagon Alley where we will walk to The Craft. It's the new upscale restaurant to the right of Gringott's," Hermione informed the group.

Draco sat in nervous excitement waiting for whom he presumed would be Granger. He had hoped to reveal himself during their lunch conversation which is why he requested to only speak with the most competent staff in the MLE and chose to dine at The Craft. He had not seen her true form since last Friday at the Ministry, and found his patience waning. As he watched the door, two familiar, but unexpected faces strolled in. He remained stoic, matching their glares as they joined his booth. "Malfoy," Harry sternly acknowledged as he sat across from him.

"Malfoy," Ron repeated with a nod, sitting to the left of Harry.

"Potter, Weasley," Draco nodded in return, disappointment seeping into his voice. All three wizards simultaneously placed their wands on the table, hands possessively gripping them.

"Hello Malfoy." Hermione slid in beside him, across from Ron. She did not show her wand. "This restaurant is quite upscale. If our department was footing the bill, we would have met at The Leaky Cauldron." She hoped her feeble joke would break the tension she observed in the wizards' wand hands.

Malfoy turned to his right and met her brown eyes. "Well Granger, if I had known this meeting needed three for the job of one on the MLE's behalf, I might have considered a less suitable environment."

"This isn't the best way to solicit our services, _Malfoy_ ," Ron warned.

"Yes, well it is fortunate then that I don't have to solicit. We all know you have been _ordered_ to provide security," Draco sneered at both Harry and Ron.

"Changed man my arse," Ron mumbled across to Hermione, who had slightly fidgeted in her seat at the friction in the opening conversation. Draco struggled not to react to the comment that implied Granger had tried to defend him.

"Let's get to business, shall we?" Hermione redirected, summoning a parchment and quill.

Draco could feel her uncomfortableness, and because he was _part_ of the problem, decided to mend his _part_ of the conversation through omission of insults. "Actually, Granger, let us first order so we may enjoy the best of the best in Diagon Alley. The food is divine and the service unparalleled."

Hermione followed his lead, much to the dismay of her two best friends. "Well Malfoy, seeing as this is my first exposure, what do you recommend?"

"For starters, I can order vol-au-vents-" Draco began.

Ron snorted rudely, "Malfoy, my _mum_ makes vol-au-vents. I should tell her she missed her calling as an upscale restauranteur." Hermione gave Ron a warning look, and even Harry gently nudged his friend's foot.

"These vol-au-vents are stuffed with a one-of-a-kind dragon based cheese potion," Draco finished. Ron, having spent some time with Charlie on his last holiday, was somewhat intrigued.

"What makes it one-of-a-kind, Malfoy?" Harry asked on Ron's behalf.

"Well for starters, Gerda Curd created the potion, and sold her rights to the recipe to The Craft's proprietor. You won't find this recipe anywhere but here. You definitely won't be able to look it up in _Charm Your Own Cheese_." He basked in the enjoyment of his favorite pastime during his days at Hogwarts—bragging.

The Golden Trio all recognized the smug look on Malfoy's face. "You own this restaurant, don't you, Malfoy?" Harry inquired.

"What gave it away, Potter?" he affirmed.

"Well then, that settles it," Hermione interrupted what she hoped was not the start of another verbal altercation. "Why not order for us so we can all enjoy the best of the 'best of the best?' That way we can get to business. This is a business luncheon after all." She flicked her wand and her quill came to life on the floating parchment. "First order of business, Mr. Malfoy, Head Williamson has agreed, upon the numbers you submitted of projected Ballroom attendance, that twelve aurors will be sufficient." Her quill paused at the end of her statement.

Draco added, "Ms. Granger, only _twelve_ aurors? You do realize that although it is called the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance, several witches and wizards plan to reveal themselves at the start or during the event. What will happen if they don't like who they see after the counterspell is cast on them?"

"Are you saying that you don't think twelve aurors can handle the security of a Ballroom? As Head of the Auror Office, Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you, we are more than capable." Harry appeared affronted.

"I'm saying it is just as important for your image as it is for mine that everything happens that night without incident," Draco calmly directed at Harry.

"Well then, I will appoint twelve of my Advanced Guard. Will that appease you?" Harry tapped his wand on the table.

Draco glared at Harry for a moment as the quill paused, awaiting an answer to write. "Yes, that will appease me."

Hermione smiled and touched Draco's shoulder for the length of a heartbeat, but the action was witnessed by all three wizards. Ironically, she was the only one that seemed not to notice the touch. "Good. Now excuse me, as I freshen up." She made her way to the back of the restaurant upon Draco's directional point with his non-wand hand. With only the wizards at the table, the conversation continued, sans quill scribing.

"That doesn't appease me, Harry. I planned on attending, not working!" Ron pouted.

"I'm amazed, Weasley, that you wished to attend. Between your fine dining here, and the dance next weekend, your exposure to proper social etiquette will be a standard set higher than any Weasley before you."

Ron and Harry responded, wands raised, with different comebacks instantaneously,

"Watch it, Ferret! I have more class than you ever will! You're lucky to even be here!"

"I resent that remark, Malfoy. When you insult my friend and my girlfriend, you insult me as well!"

Draco let out a marginally evil chuckle. Getting a rise from a Gryffindor was as easy as riding a broom. He was about to taunt more when Hermione reappeared to his right. Although she was not privy to what had transpired verbally, it was easy to assess the situation when her two best friends had their wands angrily directed at the wizard to her left. "Malfoy, if you wish this restaurant to have an upscale reputation, perhaps you should first set the standard and not antagonize potential patrons." She slipped into her seat beside him. Draco frowned, knowing better than retort, while Harry and Ron lowered their wands, smirking at Granger's spoken victory. "Let us continue. Mr. Potter, you are assigning members of the Advanced Guard. Head Williamson would like their names. Who is on call this Saturday?" For most of the luncheon, security logistics were discussed and organized. The food and service met expectations and reluctantly, both Harry and Ron entertained the idea of bringing their partners to enjoy the ambiance and savor the delectable, magical cuisine.

Ron was one of the Guard chosen to work the dance, much to his chagrin. Towards the end of meeting, Hermione suggested he reveal himself to his date this week so they could become better acquainted as an alternative. Draco watched, pleased that there was no romance lost between the two. It was Harry, however, that had one last question, and because the quill was still at work, kept the question formal.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you anticipate disgruntled guests when they discover their match's true identity?"

"Let's just put it this way, Mate. Do you think, no matter how compatible they are now, that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor will get along upon discovering the truth?" Ron asked. From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione rub her left arm.

"I am just taking all necessary precautions, Mr. Potter. I think you underestimate what the war has done to us all, _Mister_ Weasley," Draco said profoundly, looking nowhere in particular. "We all want to find our own corner of happiness with the least pain possible." Hermione stopped caressing her arm and the three Gryffindors considered Draco's response in silent reflection. Two of the three had a moment of clarity. Harry remembered the lesson Dumbledore had taught him time and time again—love is the most powerful of all magic. Ron considered this "new" Malfoy and wondered if perhaps he should invite him to play in a pick-up game of Quidditch in the near future.

Hermione, however, became clouded and deep in thought as her eyes traced the pointed features of his profile. Here before her was a wizard she had come to respect, admire, and… and _like_. His ability to control a conversation with spoken truth did not escape her scrutiny. That ability derived from the consequences of a misguided and redirected youth, from pain, remorse, and desire. It came from ambition and a place of power. And after processing all of this, she had her moment of clarity. Draco Malfoy was not just a changed wizard; he was one worth knowing, admiring, and possibly loving. The moment passed when Hermione realized she was already in the start of a new relationship. After all, Malfoy had never shown interest. She would know; she had cast _legilimancy_ on him twice.

While toggling all these thoughts, she had not realized that the wizard in question had long ago returned her stare, and that neither went unobserved by Harry or Ron. The two wizards looked to each other, the same unspoken question passing between them.

Ron cleared his throat. "Right. I guess we'll find out Saturday night. I hope, for all of our sakes, that you are right, _Mister_ Malfoy." At that dismissal, the three stood and said their good-byes to Draco as he lingered behind with intent to make a small adjustment to the wine list on the menu he had noted earlier, before returning. He may have interest in Granger, but he was not yet ready to be associated with Potter or Weasley.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 His Reveal

Monday night, a tapping at her window woke Hermione from her peaceful slumber. Upon welcoming the Southern White-faced Owl inside, she offered him a piece of a biscuit, which he refused before dropping the letter (which landed with a thud) onto her table. Hermione quickly opened it after magically closing her window.

 _My Witch,_

 _Please accept this charmed necklace and wear it at the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance as a token of my intention._

 _Your Wizard_

Hermione, if she was truthful to herself, was giddy when she opened the package to reveal a silver dragon wrapped around a jade teardrop pendant. It was quite breathtaking, but she did not add it to her attire. Instead, she just held it, torn. She didn't know this wizard, and she wanted something tangible. Malfoy was tangible. But he never showed a romantic interest in her, and she didn't dare pursue another romance that followed the path hers and Ron's took. She held the necklace and glanced once more at the romantic imperative splayed out on her table. _Let me be your Future_. She decided to let Logic win. This wizard, her admirer, desired her; she would guard her heart from either pursuit until the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance. It was only a little over four days away.

Tuesday morning Hermione awoke with an epiphany about counterspell casting for the dance. She immediately wrote a note to Malfoy, soliciting her counsel. Surprisingly, he wrote back within the hour. He agreed to a meeting after work in their usual place (his place), and supplied the portkey as was their custom.

Around 2:00pm, right before his scheduled appointment with the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee to secure the needed Muggle hairs for the Polyjuice Potions, Draco realized he had double booked his evening. He did not dare back out of the engagement with Blaise as it would require an explanation Blaise would investigate, but he had already sent a portkey to Granger. So he did the only logical thing-he owled Blaise to come an hour earlier due to work related obligations. With his dinner with Blaise completed, he would have the rest of the night to entertain Granger. Throughout the remainder of his day, Draco worked in halves—half his mind on the tasks at hand, and half his mind euphorically on Granger. However, because he was an incredibly talented wizard, even half a mind on work was more efficient than the average Ministry employee.

At 6:50pm Hermione found herself pulling her hair back into the neatest bun she could muster, all the while reprimanding herself for not bothering to learn haircare spells. She wanted the appearance of a well put together witch, despite her inner struggle. At 7:00pm, she touched the portkey and was met by not only expectant grey eyes, but also dark brown ones on a handsome face.

"So it is Hermione Granger, of all witches." Blaise chuckled, turning to Malfoy. "I would say no other witch would have surprised me more, save the beautiful Ginny Weasley." He turned to Hermione. "She was outstanding in the match against Italy. Her chaser skills are pretty advanced, considering."

"Considering?" Hermione inquired.

"Considering her poor upbringing. Her family couldn't afford private lessons, now could they? She must have quite a bit of raw talent to be able to score fifty-two points in her debut match." He began to back away, demonstrating the aloofness he had at Hogwarts. And although he never told her hello, he did say good-bye before disapparating.

"Why didn't you hex him?" Malfoy questioned, handing her a drink.

"Because he was complementing Ginny and I wanted to hear what he had to say. You might not believe this, but we Gryffindors like to rise to the occasion. His insult will only fuel her to play better. She is going to love this. Of course, she would have probably cast a Bat Bogey Hex on him."

Malfoy traced his hand over his mouth in remembrance. "Being a recipient to her hexes once is more than enough."

"You had deserved it for being on the Inquisitorial Squad." After a pause in remembrance, she asked, "Why was he here?"

Malfoy levitated his drink to his Elmwood table. "Not that it is any of your business, Granger, but Blaise is very well connected, so I stay connected to him."

"Well then, that defines that." She levitated her drink to settle beside his.

"You will need to explain yourself further, Granger. Your hair may be under control tonight, but your ideas are running wild." He gestured to his dragon-hide couch.

Hermione chose to sit at his table instead, and smiled invitingly at an empty chair in which Malfoy could sit. "I often suspected Slytherins did not know the true meaning of friendship. We often meet for business after hours. Is this your way of calling _me_ your friend, Malfoy?"

Draco hesitated, processing how to best answer her. "Granger, you of all people, should not be so quick to judge." He sat in the chair beside her and rolled up his sleeves. "I feel smothered all the time, covering this up. But around you I am comfortable enough to reveal it. I think that means something by any house's standard."

Slightly abashed, she responded, "I find your mark a beautiful irony."

Draco could not let her comment escape without contradicting it. "There is no beauty in this, Granger. I would explain the symbolism, but you witnessed much of it firsthand. Sometimes I wonder how twisted the war left your mind. I cannot show it in public because of the fear and loathing it causes. I keep the long sleeves not only to shelter the memory from onlookers, but from myself as well. The Dark Mark is my prison, Granger."

Granger studied his mark intently before boldly reaching out and tracing it with her right index finger. "The Dark Mark led you to the Light, Malfoy. There is beauty in that." Had she lifted her eyes from his forearm, she would have seen unabated lust in his. Instead, she innocently pulled away and sat upright in her chair.

Draco grabbed her left arm, lifting her sleeve and caressed his hand across her lettered scars. "And what about this, Granger? Is there any beauty here?"

She met his eyes determinedly. "You never did apologize."

Taken aback, Draco replied, "I didn't have to. You _saw_ it." Reluctantly, he let go of her arm and mirrored her upright posture.

"Seeing is not the same as hearing. I'm curious, what would you have said?"

They had yet to break eye contact, but Draco knew the difference between her Legilimens stare and one of pure intrigue. "Granger, I am from a long line of traditional pure-bloods whose will was enforced through the submission of others. I have never had a model to teach me the art of apologizing."

"But you were still going to try," she pushed.

"Yes and you negated the purpose!" he pushed back.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Granger bit her lip and continued. "My point is, you come 'from a long line of traditional pure-bloods' who have engraved prejudices into you, but they were only surface deep. Seeing me…" here Granger swallowed a lump in her throat and paused before continuing, "the way you did that day broke your hatred." She stopped again, fighting back her tears. Draco wanted to comfort her, take the pain of that day from her, but he knew not how. His brave little Gryffindor continued, "The beauty in this scar comes from the reaction others have to it. Not the pity, mind you, but from the ones who feel remorse, even though they were not the one who inflicted it. Remorse is the only way to heal a split soul, you know." A single tear fell down her cheek and landed on the table. She wiped the wet path it left on her face away and cleared her throat before continuing. "Anyhow, where were we? Oh yes! I have a great idea to replace the counterspell—"

"No, Granger, you don't get to do that," Draco interrupted. "You don't get to dissect me and only see the good. I may have erased some hatred, but I still use people. I still manipulate. I still find ways to get the upper hand. The base of who I am is still not the best of wizards."

"I only commented on the change, Malfoy," Granger said through set teeth, "because I thought remarking on your unchanged lesser qualities would be a redundancy. Thank you for the reminder that you are still a prat." She summoned her quill and parchment. "Now, let's get to business, _friend_." She flicked her wand and her quill moved to a writing position.

His hand gently wrapped around her hand and wand, causing the quill to fall to the floor, splattering ink on an otherwise pristine tile floor. The shatter was enough to mask her gasp at the contact, and she turned to face Draco. His move was so unsuspected she was caught off guard. He quickly grabbed her face and kissed her softly but gently before proclaiming, "Granger, I want more than your friendship."

Immediately, Hermione knew that kiss.

 **A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. You are a kind audience.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 Out of Focus

Hermione's thoughts were racing. He had kissed her before. They were different lips belonging to a different face, but it was the same gentleness, the same manner of holding her. She felt a flood of emotions simultaneously. Shock, relief, excitement, lust and—because she is Hermione Granger—caution and curiosity. She wondered if he knew she was the secret object of his affection. If he knew, then he was more sly and romantic than she had ever suspected. If he didn't know, but kissed her anyway, then she wanted nothing to do with a wizard that would pursue two witches. As she sifted through ways of asking, Draco moved in so close their thighs were touching. The move broke her concentration.

Still a breath away, his hands dropped from her face and moved to her left arm as he examined her. She was breathing unevenly and could feel her heart beating as if it was attempting to escape her body. Emboldened, he whispered, "If it is my reaction to your scar that you find so beautiful, Granger, then what do you think of this?" He moved down and gently kissed the letters, one at a time—eight tender kisses. "Is it still beautiful, Granger, that I find pleasure in touching you like this? Do you still wish to call me friend?"

She swallowed. Physical seduction was an unfamiliar territory. She snogged Viktor Krum on several occasions, but she was fifteen at the time and very practical. She would not share more than her lips to a wizard that did not hold her heart. Ron had held her heart, but _that day_ had changed her. After the war she had needed time for herself. There was a short while when she did not even want to be touched because she kept reliving that moment, the torture, and the threat of far worse at the hands of Greyback. It had been hard for Ron, too. He had felt helpless that day, and being with her through her time of self-healing had made him feel helpless once again. As much as they loved each other, being _in love_ was too hard. They had removed the romance from their relationship long before it got to an intimate level.

But here was Malfoy, kissing her daily reminder of worse times, and she had not thought twice about that awful moment. Instead, her focus, what little she had, had been on the feel of his warm lips on her skin, and the tiny bit of moisture he left behind on each letter. It was too hard to think of anything else but him. He was the one that had made it that way. It scared her.

But it enticed, seduced and made her want for more. Tomorrow, or later tonight when she departed from him, she would think about what to do. For now, she stood and pulled him to her, too eager to feel his full heat against her as she tiptoed up to meet his desirable lips in her first romantic warm embrace in years. A part of her hoped that this was her last first kiss. She wanted him to be her Future.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 The Wrong Conversation

Wednesday morning Draco woke alone in his bed with the contrasting emotions of contentment and desire battling within him. Her response to him had been more than expected. He had the privilege of discovering last night Granger kissed like a crazy witch; she was no prude. He jokingly thought of returning his charmed couch had he not witnessed its successful effects on witches before her.

But now, reminiscing of how he held her to him last night, how she returned the embrace with equal yearning, brought upon new lusts as evidenced by his waking body. Desire beat out contentment and he quickly accio'd parchment and quill. He had to see his Granger.

Hermione woke a little later than usual, finding too much satisfaction in ruminating about the night before to move from her bed. She hugged her soft, squishy pillow, a poor substitute for the warmth and hard lines she had pressed against last night. After minutes of mentally trying to make herself get ready for the day, it was a familiar Eagle Owl tapping at her window that coerced her from her bed. Her note from Malfoy read,

 _I need more of you. Tell me you will come to me again tonight and let me claim places on your body where only I belong._

Hermione dropped herself on her bed, an uncontrollable smile and blush lighting her face as she grabbed her pillow to cover her face in an attempt to hide her excitement and embarrassment, despite her only audience being an unamused owl. No further proof was needed that Malfoy and her admirer were one in the same with such a lascivious letter before her. She squirmed on her bed as his words warmed her body in need and desire. She basked in being the object of his affection and after overcoming the majority of her embarrassment over what exactly he meant by claiming places where only _he_ belonged, she accio'd her parchment and quill, and ended the impatience of the bored Eagle Owl with the job of delivering her letter. Thus her day began with a thrill of possibilities.

Draco had Floo Powder in hand when his Eagle Owl, Bubo Bubo, greeted him, the anticipated letter in his talents. He opened it and read Granger's simple agreement. _You may claim_ _one_ _place. Choose wisely_. He smiled thinking of how reserved she was aside from last night, and how her reservation worked in his favor. A part of him wondered how far she had gone with Ron.

The two began their days on their respective floors, working diligently when not otherwise daydreaming of their union to come. Hermione would pause mid-research to touch her lips in remembrance. Draco would pause mid-dictation imagining where he would kiss her that night. Consequently neither were as productive as they aught, and by lunchtime, Draco had yet to secure the required funding for a few smaller items for the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance in two days. The start of his necessitated working lunch in his office was abruptly interrupted by his mother.

"Son, you look so busy," Narcissa began, walking over to embrace him.

"It is to be expected of a head position, Mother."

"I know," she smiled as she gracefully sat across from him. "I was wondering if you could have lunch with me today."

"This is unexpected, Mother. Where is my formal invitation with a goblin-made emerald seal?" Although he teased, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Narcissa covered her mouth and chuckled before continuing, "I would have made you one, had I known it was expected of a mother-son casual lunch."

The word "casual" from his mother's lips seized all Draco's attention. With a flick of his wand, his desk was cleared. He leaned forward as he folded his arms on his desk. "Mother, why do you wish to eat with me today?"

Narcissa smiled victoriously. "I wanted a chance to talk to you without your father, my precious son." Her manicured hands were folded in her lap, her hair elaborately coiffed, and her robes bought that morning. She was always more poised when she wanted something; it was her battle armor.

"Well, Mother, you have my full attention, as you knew you would. Is there a problem that needs addressing immediately?"

"Such manners, Draco! Just like your father. I thought we could discuss this over a nice lunch, but your mannerisms suggest I get straight to the point." She appeared hurt.

As always when dealing with his mother, Draco's heart softened. "I apologize, Mother. Unfortunately I have no time for a 'casual lunch' today. Would you like to eat together tomorrow?"

"No, I do not think this can wait, so I will acquiesce and tell you directly what I want to know."

"You want to know something?"

"Yes."

"Well, ask me, Mother, and I will answer you." He moved to kneel beside her.

She paused. Draco grabbed his mother's soft hand in encouragement. "Draco," she commenced, "who do you love?"

Draco snickered. "I love you and Father, of course. What an odd question, Mother. Surely you are not insecure about—"

"No Draco, with whom are you _in love_?" Her face searched his for any hint of an answer.

He stood and returned to his desk. "What makes you think I am in love, Mother?"

"I need not think it, I know. Your evasive response confirms it." In a softer voice, she inquired, "Is it that Granger girl?" Her eyes never left him, searching for all his known tells.

Draco looked to his mother, pondering how she could possibly know of his interest in Granger. A couple of situations ran through his head of how his parents would react to a truthful answer. None of them ended well. He answered her with the most convincing lie he had ever produced, "No, Mother, I am not in love with Granger."

Although she would have eventually accepted any answer, she sighed in relief. With all the perfectly eligible pure-blood witches, it was unfathomable he would fall for the Muggle-born best friend of the Chosen One. Inwardly she laughed at the ironic joke that her son would settle for nothing less than the best. "Then perhaps you have fallen for the witch you are Owline Dating? The one you met at the Polyjuice Speed Dating?" It hurt her ears saying such blasphemous words that went against tradition. But she was desperate to learn something. To learn that her son was not too broken from his past to know and understand love.

He locked eyes with his mother and answered her honestly, "Yes, Mother, I do believe I am falling for this witch. She has yet to reveal herself to me. I had planned to tell her tonight."

His mother was relieved, but not soothed. If she could uncover the identity of his witch, then she could protect him from one unworthy. "Darling, will you promise me not to reveal yourself until the dance? Love takes time."

Draco laughed at his mother. "The dance is Saturday, Mother. That is only a little over two days away."

She looked at her son sternly, "A lot can happen in two days, Son. Promise me to take your time."

He stopped laughing to match her serious tone. Two days would not matter, when he could be with Granger three nights. "Okay, Mother. I will wait until the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance before I reveal my identity." Appeased, Narcissa stood and beckoned her son for an embrace before exiting his office. Aside from his mother's visit, the rest of Draco's workday flowed productively. He was able to secure the needed funds and left work the same time as the rest of the Ministry.

Hermione had spent an hour trying on different robes, trying to find the correct balance between confidence and sex appeal. It was fifty minutes longer than she had ever spent on getting ready before, except for the Yule Ball. Unfortunately, as a workaholic and having a neglectful romantic personal life resulted in a lack of alluring robes. The thought reminded her that she had yet to find a dress robe for the Ballroom Dance. She would owl Ginny tomorrow for assistance.

Malfoy's Eagle Owl tapped at her window promptly. She welcomed him with more enthusiasm than the owl ever showed, and grabbed the letter from his talons before he quickly flew out her window. She opened the letter and smiled at the words, _I can wait no longer_ written on the parchment. The portkey began glowing and she grabbed it immediately.

The moment she landed in Malfoy's luxurious dwelling, she felt his warmth wrap around her. He pushed her bushy hair aside as he began kissing her cheek and neck before his voice caught up to his actions. "I have missed you," he whispered in her ear before gently biting her earlobe and giving it a lick between his teeth. The move gave her goosebumps and she fell limp into his embrace before he joined his lips to hers.

A moment too brief for Draco later, she pulled away from him, keeping her hands on his defined chest as a barrier and teased, "Malfoy, you have kissed my cheeks, neck, lips, and have bit and licked my earlobe. Am I to assume all of these areas are not where _only you belong_ since I clearly wrote you could claim only _one place_?"

Her coy smile enticed his reply, and Draco laughed much to her dismay. It broke Granger's confidence, as she was attempting to be flirtatious. "Granger, as clever as you are, you forget I am a Slytherin at the core. I need only to claim _one place_ to claim all of you." He intertwined his hands in hers and led them around his neck before releasing them and grabbing her waist to pull her flush against him.

Granger's perplexed look yielded a low chuckle from Draco, and she could feel it against her body. He put her confusion to rest. "I need only claim your heart to claim all of you."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Agrippa

Hermione's blissful state lingered from the night previous as she shuffled through some auror permits for filing. With her back turned to the door, Harry's voice gave her a moment of alarm. "Goodness, 'Mione. How did you not hear me knock at your door before entering?" He eyed her with suspicion, wand twitching.

"I was preoccupied, I guess, Harry. There are so many permits to file. What have all of you been up to in the past couple of days that so many requests were made in bulk?" She turned to see Harry, looking at her questionably.

"We have been busy, lately, or at least busier than usual." He tapped his wand against his right thigh before interrogating, "I have been meaning to ask you-What was the name of those cheese things we ate with Ron during lunch at the Leaky Cauldron on Monday?"

"Don't be silly, Harry, we ate with Ron and _Mal_ …" she turned in realization to his questioning and faced him directly. "Harry James Potter, we had a business lunch with Malfoy at The Craft where we had vol-au-vents appetizers made from a special dragon-based cheese potion crafted by Gerda Curd herself and owned by Malfoy. I went to refresh myself and returned to see you and Ron pointing your wands at a smug Malfoy before we had even begun discussing the security for the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance this Saturday. Is this specific enough to conclude your interrogation of my true identity?" She crossed her arms as she eyed her friend.

Harry ceased tapping his wand. "Sorry, 'Mione, but I had to ask. You aren't acting like yourself right now. You seem unobservant. Even when you are distracted by a project, you are still aware of your surroundings." He moved to pick up the little wooden box still perched on the side of her desk. "I came to tell you, I found Agrippa."

"Did you?" she asked, only a tad curious.

Harry searched his friend's face. "'Mione, I know it is you, but you really aren't acting like yourself. What has you so, so…out of focus?"

Hermione paused. She was in a state of perpetual bliss which clouded her daily thoughts and routines. For the first time in her life, her priorities had no focus and when she was around Malfoy, she couldn't think. It was a liberating awareness. The thought intrigued her. "Sorry, Harry. Um, so how did you find him?"

"I was working the night shift last night and went to get some Portkeys made. I know why Ron had so much trouble. Agrippa is a witch, not a wizard." He still had the box in his hand.

"A witch!" Hermione giggled at the reveal. "Why had we not considered all avenues of possibilities?"

"Because you are distracted." Harry paused before closing her door and continuing. "Remember Sixth Year, when you kept thinking that the Half-Blood Prince could be a girl? And now, your head seems to be elsewhere. Is it your admirer, that has you all," to finish his sentence Harry waved his arms about.

Hermione bit her lip before answering, "I might be a little distracted by my admirer, but I am still functioning just fine, Harry. Tell me about Agrippa."

"Well, she is a talkative old witch that works the night shift at the Department of Magical Transit. She creates Portkeys." He examined the box in hand.

"Is she a suspicious character?"

"Not that I could tell… It just seems odd that she would gift you an empty box. She had a handful of these in her office space. Everything just seemed off." He handed her the box. "I need to go now. I'm off and Ginny knows it. Between my schedule this week and her training, it is hard to find time together. Apparently you are taking her from me later today."

"I'm sorry, Harry. Would you rather I not? I can go robe shopping on my own." Hermione felt truly guilty.

Harry laughed. "No, I have to squeeze in sleep somewhere. See you tonight." He gave his friend a hug before dismissing himself.

Eight levels above, Draco and his team were finishing the final touches to the upcoming social event when he received an interdepartmental aeroplane from the Department of Magical Games and Sports Head of Office Portia Velox. He had anticipated the memo since Tuesday's dinner meeting with Blaise. The memo read,

 _Mr. Malfoy,_

 _As you know, your request to transfer the responsibilities of an Intramural Quidditch League to my department was met with hesitancy due to its unprecedented objective of creating unprofessional organized sports for the common witch and wizard. Despite my argument before the International Confederation of Wizards Quidditch Committee, it seems your friend, Mr. Blaise Zabini, had a premeditated luncheon with Mr. Metaxas, and my plea for common sense (the denial of unprofessional leagues) would fall on deaf ears. Therefore, to your satisfaction and my disapproval, your request has been approved and the Intramural Quidditch League will be introduced into our ever changing Post-War Wizarding Britain in two month's time. The organization of the league and my department's responsibilities will be sent to you upon request. The advertisement of the league is beyond my department's duties. I do hope that this move on your part does not constitute the demise of professional Quidditch for the rest of the country._

 _I must admit on a personal note, that I have a great respect for your mother, who I have known before she became a Malfoy, and cannot help but wonder her opinion of your unconventional ideas that challenge our rich traditions._

 _Portia Vortex,_ _Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports_

 _Postscript: You seem to have an uncanny ability of knowing what I will do before I do it. One of these days I will find out how._

Draco grinned at his success and noted that next Monday's meeting would have the new focus of marketing the new Intramural League. Of Granger's three ideas, this was the only one he actually liked; he couldn't wait to join a league and relive his short-lived fun he had when he was the Slytherin Seeker at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, between caresses and despite his many attempts of seduction, Granger left his arms prematurely last night with no promise of seeing him again until Friday night. Fortunately, this triumph gave him reason to see his Granger while at work. He excused himself from the office and made his way to the elevator.

He entered Level Two, and immediately walked into his witch's office and whispered " _Colloportus._ "

Upon hearing the spell, Granger immediately cast _Impedimenta_ , binding her target before knowing him. As Malfoy fell, body bound, to the floor, he looked up at the startled witch. "Granger, I admit your casting speed is impressive, but I can think of much better ways to use this spell, and none of these scenarios involve the dirty, hard Ministry floor."

She knelt down and kissed him before unbinding him. "Sorry, Malfoy. Harry had me thinking that perhaps I'm not on my game. Why would you lock my door?"

The moment he was unbound, Draco grabbed his witch and licked her neck to her ear, causing her to shiver and collapse in his grasp. He thoroughly enjoyed making her mind and body forget. "So I could do this," he whispered. He held her face and kissed her gently. His intention was clear, and she complied, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer to him with need. "Come to me tonight, Witch. I need you." She smiled as his kisses moved to her neck.

"I can't, Malfoy. I am going out with Ginny and eating at Harry's tonight." She breathed heavily as his lips made her body respond in ways which would embarrass her had she been in her right mind. She pushed herself more into him, causing him to let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"Then stay the night with me. You deny me every night, don't deny me again." His hands moved up and down her back, each time traveling lower. Hermione could feel his hands' intentions, but had no desire to stop him.

"Malfoy, stop making this hard. I already want you all the time. Just be patient. We will see each other tomorrow night." Her hands made their way to his hair and she gripped it, causing him to growl lowly and finally grab her bum as she forcefully pulled his face down to hers for a warm kiss.

"Please," he gasped when they released the kiss for air.

"Write to me. Make me regret this decision," she smiled coyly.

Draco's response was interrupted by a knock at Granger's door. "Ms. Granger?" He cursed, released her, then shoved the memo from Portia Velox into her hands before magically unlocking her door.

"Come in," Hermione said loudly, while glancing over the memo.

Candida Brewer opened the door enough to stick her head through. Her eyes moved from Hermione's disheveled robes and Draco's messy hair repetitively before she stated her business. "Ginny Weasley owled. She wants to know if you can meet her at Harry's at 5:30."

"Oh. Please owl her that will be fine. Mr. Malfoy, have you considered the audience for your marketing campaign for the Intramural League?" Although the two began a discussion on business, Candida was not fooled. She closed the door and stood outside it, too shocked for anything else to register for a whole minute.

Despite their lithe figures, the shopping took longer than either had expected. Hermione rarely had a need as her investment in her professional life gave her little time, and Ginny was such a tomboy that neither was an expert shopper. They stopped at four shops, and each proprietor had gently scolded them for postponing their purchases for so long, as they had little to offer and greatly desired the two famous witches to wear their designs. After three hours of shopping, Hermione and Ginny had finally settled on dress robes from Madam Malkin's. Ginny bought a soft blue gown that made her feel quite feminine. Hermione bought an emerald colored gown to match her dragon necklace to which Ginny joked that her admirer might be a Slytherin. Her blush to the comment did not go unnoticed.

As they made their way to an apparation point, Ginny glanced sideways at her friend and asked, "So, your admirer… _is_ he a Slytherin?"

Hermione was quick to counter. "What makes you ask that?"

"Your blush makes me ask that. You know who he is, don't you?" She stopped walking to face her friend.

Hermione hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of exposing her secret. "Yes. Don't overreact okay?"

"Who is it?" Ginny whispered eagerly, moving closer to Hermione.

"You must promise to keep my secret. Even from Harry."

"Okay, I promise! Just tell me who it is, I'm dying to know!" Ginny was almost jumping with anticipation.

"Remember, you promised not to overreact and to keep my secret."

"Yes, yes!"

Hermione inhaled, and with her exhale quickly revealed, "It's Draco Malfoy."

"NO!" Ginny screamed in disbelief.

"Shh!" Hermione quickly covered her friend's mouth. Ginny knocked her hand away and looked at her with utter disbelief. Unspoken, they both continued walking silently to the apparition point. Hermione did not know how to assess her friend's taciturn behavior. Within minutes, they were in Harry's yard and walking to his front door, all done in silence.

Dinner was uneventful save Harry's reminder to see Agrippa before work and Ginny's occasional questionable looks in Hermione's direction. Luckily for Hermione, Ginny would be staying at Harry's and she was able to leave without a string of inquisitions that she was unprepared to answer. Her next time alone with Ginny would be quite the event.

All was forgotten when she walked through her door the Muggle way, and found an impatient Eagle Owl tapping at her window. She apologized to him as he glared at her unimpressed and dropped her letter to the floor before flying away. She opened the letter, and read as she undressed.

 _Because I am Grangerless, my mind is forced to create scenarios in which my Granger complies. My Granger allows me to kiss her everywhere, even under her robes where her modesty is preserved. My Granger willingly offers herself to me. My Granger moans and begs for more. Do not leave me alone with thoughts I cannot fulfill again, my witch. I ache with need for you._

She sighed and blushed and threw herself on her bed wearing nothing but her undergarments and a smile she could not wipe away. Sleep did not come easy that night.

Early Friday morning Hermione found her way to the Portkey Office and smiled at the elder witch she found there. "Hello. Are you Agrippa? My name is Hermione Granger."

"Ms. Granger! It is a pleasure to meet a war hero. Did you receive my gift?" Agrippa gripped Hermione's hand with both of her bony hands and brought her closer.

Hermione released herself and pulled out the small wooden box, taking a step back. "Yes, I did. I must admit, I was surprised by such a gift." She smiled and turned the box in her hands.

"That is because you do not know what it can do. With you being Muggle-born, I can get right to the point. It is a recording device, and will play back for you with the simple command, _Verbatim Revilio_. I thought the ingenuity would impress you."

Hermione's mind quickly went through several laws that would need to be made to protect the rights of witches and wizards as well as how the device could be used by aurors. It indeed was an ingenious invention. "Thank you, Agrippa. This is brilliant. Where did you get it?"

"I created it myself," the old Ravenclaw grinned proudly. "Would you like to hear one firsthand? I have just the one." She shuffled through her boxes and somehow knew the differences between them. "This one, you should find interesting. It is after all, about you."

"What?" Hermione asked, aghast. Apparently the invention had surpassed its novelty and was already in use for devious methods of attaining knowledge. Harry was right to be suspicious of Agrippa.

"Oh, do not be alarmed, my dear. You look as though I am intent upon using these for evil purposes," the witch laughed. "I assure you, the owner of this box was well aware of it in his possession. He gave it to me only yesterday. Are you not curious as to what the infamous Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, has to say about you, Ms. Granger?"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Nothing Left

 _"Draco, who do you love?"_

 _"I love you and Father, of course. What an odd question, Mother. Surely you are not insecure about—"_

 _"No Draco, with whom are you in love?"_

 _"What makes you think I am in love, Mother?"_

 _"I need not think it, I know. Your evasive response confirms it. Is it that Granger girl?"_

 _"No, Mother, I am not in love with Granger."_

 _"Then perhaps you have fallen for the witch you are Owline Dating? The one you met at the Polyjuice Speed Dating?"_

 _"Yes, Mother, I do believe I am falling for this witch. She has yet to reveal herself to me. I had planned to tell her tonight."_

 _"Darling, will you promise me not to reveal yourself until the dance? Love takes time."_

 _"The dance is Saturday, Mother. That is only a little over two days away."_

 _"A lot can happen in two days, Son. Promise me to take your time."_

 _"Okay, Mother. I will wait until the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance before I reveal my identity."_

Hermione slammed the box shut with such might that it shattered, mirroring her devastated metaphorical heart. She surrendered to her tears as a numbness began to creep into her body, and she hugged herself in false self-assurance. She would allow this weakness for the next ten minutes, until the workday began. She would allow the self-pity, the humiliation, and the pain of believing in a deceptive wizard because she had no other choice. "This is what happens when you give your heart away," she sobbed to herself, "you have nothing good left."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The ten minutes passed by, and as she had promised herself, it was all that she had allotted to self-pity. At her core Hermione was a practical, logical witch, a characteristic which separated her from so much of her sex in the fact that she preferred to separate emotion from event. Her preference for self-analysis stripped her of feeling and although it took the length of a day, she was able to reflect upon Malfoy's actions and words almost through the eyes of a third party. She began to realize that although she found many qualities in him attractive, he had never alluded that _his_ attraction was met with equanimity to an admiration of _her_ qualities. His letters and his words all indicated an interest in her physically, but without ever calling or implying her beautiful. The more she reflected, the more she realized that although Malfoy was a wizard in which she _could_ fall in love, her pride had been injured far more than her heart. She was not yet broken. She was Hermione Granger, a witch that deserved the love of a wizard who only discovered her beauty as the product of what first attracted him-her intangible features such as her mind and spirit. She did not think it was much to expect from a wizard.

It was not until 6:55pm, and through much internal debate that she decided she would attend the Polyjuice Ballroom Dance with a bare neck and observant eye. And because she could not conclude whether or not he knew she was his Polyjuice witch, she decidedly took action through quill and parchment. When the ill-mannered Eagle Owl promptly arrived, he was greeted by Hermione from an open window, with a letter in her hand. He delivered the usual wrapped Portkey and letter, but she no longer had time in her life for Malfoy's frivolous words, full of seduction without substance. She cast _Evanesco_ almost the moment it was dropped in her hand.

Draco was surprised to see Bubo Bubo arrive with a message instead of Granger. He opened the letter impatiently.

 _Malfoy,_

 _I regret to inform you that I will not be able to see you tonight. Please do not make me the subject of your imagination as your entertainment for the evening; it will do me no justice. I will never meet the expectations of a witch molded by fantasy and thusly placed on an unattainable pedestal. I thank you for the invitation despite my declination due to another engagement._

 _Granger_

Draco desperately wanted to apparate to Granger's dwelling but he neither knew where she lived or if it was indeed where she would be. Knowing her, there were probably an abundance of unnecessary wards as well, and he had no desire to lose body parts. He sank onto his Hebridean Black hide couch. Whether it was from the charm or from his own desperation, he ripped the letter until he could tear it no more. He needed Granger. Her essence of love, happiness, and goodness was contagious, but only through proximity. To go a whole day without her virtues to subdue his anger and guilt, to occupy his mind from the challenges of her own made him desperate for just a moment with his witch. How could she not know her importance to him? How could she not know he depended on her, that he was addicted?

Distracted by grief, it took a few taps from his owl before he realized there was another letter held between his talons. He petted his head as the owl closed his eyes in appreciation of the affection before flying off to his post. Slowly, Draco opened his second letter for the night.

 _To My Admirer,_

 _I must admit your pendant is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I have beheld. But a thief that can steal a kiss from a witch in disguise must have discovered something in her he wanted. Whatever you found in me that night, you should be able to find again without the help of a charm. I look forward to meeting the real you, tomorrow night, as I know you shall not fail in your endeavor to seek me out._

 _Until then,_

 _A Hopeful Witch_

Draco sat in utter confusion, trying to understand why Granger would send him two letters. After a third reading of both letters (he had repaired the first) he came to two possible conclusions. One possibility was that she did not know he was her admirer, and was breaking connection with him so she could pursue her admirer. The other possibility was that she knew he was her admirer, and thought that he did not know she was the object of his affections, and the letter was a test. Either scenario did not bode well for him. Unintentionally, he followed Granger's request and did not fantasize about her that night. Instead, he spent it contemplating his actions for tomorrow's ballroom dance. He needed Granger; he would not give her up.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 The Polyjuice Ballroom Dance

Hermione arrived to the newly constructed ballroom and was pleasantly surprised while observing the thoughtful execution of service, food, and overall ambiance. (She had purposefully removed herself from this aspect of planning.) "Professional" counterspell casters were designated by their uniformed violet robes, wands ready to reveal true identities. Navy robed tailors were waiting in the Polyjuice Potion booths to magically fit garments to witches' and wizards' Muggle forms. Aurors were not dressed in their severe commanding robes, but were still recognizable to the Undersecretary of MLE. Trays of edible delicacies floated along the skirts of the walls, easy to summon. Soft orchestral music played at a volume complementary to conversations. The lighting was not too bright nor too dark, provided by the thousands of candles floating above, the image reminiscent of her innocent times at Hogwarts. She wondered if that was the purpose. Malfoy had ways of astounding her.

Draco chose not to appear in Muggle form. In a moment of brilliant epiphytic irony, he realized that the best way to Granger's heart was to manipulate her by _not_ being manipulative. Any other house would call this being truthful, not manipulative at all. However, manipulation ran through a Slytherin's blood. The fact that he recognized the need to be himself-expose his true self-to Granger, was confirmation enough to the outside observer that Love, not Obsession was the catalyst for such an extreme change. He dressed in his most elegant robes, and _bravely_ walked onto the ballroom floor.

Hermione entered the ballroom disguised in the form of a beautiful dark skinned Muggle with curly hair the color of an ebony tree, eyes to match, and a figure much like her own. Her dress had only tiny modifications. The emerald shade complimented her temporary dark complexion, and her hair was left down and bouncing, more because Hermione did not feel competent enough to cast a hair spell than for appearance. She pondered over Malfoy's deduction skills in finding her so well disguised, and hoped he proved worthy of the challenge. The hope she held did not escape her, and she knew that a witch willing to hold on to Hope might not have a heart completely her own.

Within the first fifteen minutes, the Great Ballroom was crowded with excitable youth chattering away and enjoying the prospect of Love and Friendship. Hermione had already dismissed two wizards, immediately recognizing they were not Malfoy. Each minute brought on more nervous energy as she began to despair over whether he would pursue her, or the witch he thought he admired but did not know. Her hand began to shake and she nervously fisted when a voice behind her spoke.

"I like your style, Witch," the feminine voice began. "You turn down pathetic wizards with such ease." The pug faced witch was smiling at her when Hermione turned to meet the familiar voice.

"Why are you not in disguise?" Hermione asked upon seeing a perfectly dressed Pansy Parkinson.

"Hmmm. You get straight to the point, too. So you aren't a fellow Slytherin like I had assumed. I hope that makes you a Ravenclaw." Pansy was now slightly frowning.

"House is irrelevant, assuming I came from Hogwarts," she responded with politeness undeserved before quoting Shakespeare. " _We know what we are, but not what we may be_."

"Oh Merlin," Pansy replied with an eye roll. "So you are Ravenclaw. That is what got me in this mess to begin with." At that she motioned to her face and body before explaining, "I met a wizard through the Owline Dating who spit out pretty words just the same as you. He convinced me that 'we would not be free to love if we were not free in form'. So we just had a counterspell cast by that knarl-faced old wizard over there." She pointed without shame at the eldest of all the counterspell casters. Hermione chose not to follow the path of her point. "As soon as our true forms were revealed, I saw a Ravenclaw who was, I don't know, three times my age?" Hermione's incredulous grimace led Pansy to correct her hyperbole. "Well, not that old, of course, but you know what I mean. Actually, he's cute, in his own too-smart-for-regular-conversation way. I have to admit he charmed me. I don't even mind that he is a second generation Half-Blood. But he isn't rich! Since you are a Ravenclaw, maybe you know him and can tell me if he is to inherit-Lawrence Hodgepodge?"

Hermione shook her head and responded, "No, sorry." But she wasn't sorry. She wanted to evacuate the conversation and was struggling on an exit strategy that would not reveal her identity to the well-known verbal bully.

From across the hall, Draco observed witch after witch, looking for tells of Granger. His eyes wondered over a beauty dressed in emerald, but quickly dismissed her due to the fact that she was speaking to Pansy Parkinson. He quickly entertained the thought that Pansy would not have revealed herself so soon had she not found her match. He laughed at the notion and returned to his search knowing that the witch in emerald was not his witch; Hermione Granger would never converse willingly with Pansy Parkinson.

The Polyjuice Ballroom Dance was already a huge success an hour in. About half the couples had been revealed. Draco applauded himself for the foresight of hiring so many counterspell casters. As it turned out, aurors were not needed. Very few matches were not satisfied or happily surprised.

Although he found the numerous witches approaching him in Muggle form soliciting their love an annoyance, it also aided in eliminating options. An hour in, he found himself desperate to find Granger. He needed her, and was aching from that need. He began his search anew, looking again at witches he initially disregarded.

Over the first hour, Hermione had the fortune of entertaining conversation after conversation to distract her from her anxiety over Malfoy. She had spoken pleasantly with Neville who was not on auror duty. He was planning on proposing to Hannah Abbott that night, and his nerves were beginning to get the best of him. She reminded him that no witch could turn down the love of the brave Gryffindor who destroyed a Horcrux, especially one that was equally in love. She saw Harry and Ginny, but only winked from afar, not wishing to give away any hints of her identity to onlookers. The couple immediately recognized her underneath the Muggle exterior with differing reactions. Harry winked back before turning his attention elsewhere, taking a sip from his beverage. Ginny nodded and lingered with a perplexing brow. Hermione had no idea of what she was thinking, but smiled and moved on. She spoke with Ron, who was only slightly pouting from duty, but was so pleased (he and his match had revealed themselves the day before apparently) that he made for an easy, but short conversation. However, with every pause in conversing, Malfoy became the forefront of her thoughts. One such moment happened when she finished talking with Luna and her match, Rolf Scamander. She had watched them reveal themselves and was overjoyed and jealous of the joy on both their faces as they embraced with affection upon their exposure. Luna, in her uncanny manner that was inexplicable to the mind of Hermione, had noticed her embrace with Rolf was being observed and led him by the hand to talk to her old classmate.

Hermione watched them approach her but before she could congratulate the happy new couple, Luna hugged her and whispered in her ear, "There is no need for jealousy. I can tell you have been touched by Love yourself." Thus began a conversation between the three in which Hermione held no control because both Luna and Rolf would make such insightful comments, revealing parts of her that she had either not realized or was not yet willing to confront. When they departed, hand in hand, she was not regretful of losing their company.

Looking around, she finally saw Malfoy. A two day deficit was enough to make her heart jump at the sight of him. Her brilliance worked against her as she immediately realized that a true form Malfoy meant he must have revealed himself, evidenced by the many witches around him. She remembered Ginny's comment that he might have owled the same message to every witch he met at the Polyjuice Speed Dating night. Her heart sank as she fought back tears. She looked down and unconsciously massaged her scar.

Draco knew time was against him as they were now in their second hour of the event. The Weird Sisters were scheduled to perform in less than ten minutes, and if he could not find Granger before then, he would have very little chance against loud music and dancing bodies. He scanned the room frantically when he saw her tell-the beauty in emerald massaging her left forearm. He walked at a pace so swift it was the speed of a jog to her side. He gently grabbed her face.

"Granger, I have looked for you all night. Please let me cast the counterspell so I can hold my true witch." His eyes were pleading.

Hermione looked up and cast _Legilimency_ while searching his eyes. He could feel her in his mind and chose not to cast _Occlumency_. For the first time in his short, but tormented life, he let someone else see all of him. The vulnerability did not leave him feeling naked and exposed. Instead he felt the opposite; he felt engulfed by her and safe.

Tears fell down Hermione's face as she felt and saw Malfoy's true sentiments. It confused her as she searched further for why he would say the contrary of what he felt to his mother. She could feel his confliction and… _protection_ in the lie. Everything was becoming too much, especially when she discovered he was an Occlumens when delving deeper. After understanding this, she comprehended the magnitude of his willingness to vulnerability. She began to feel his broken spirit mending through the exposure of his mind. She felt his addiction to how she could make him feel. She tried to compartmentalize herself the way she saw in his mind, but it didn't matter. Her tears now fell uncontrollably.

"Granger, please," he was begging her. "I need to hold the real you. Please." He was still holding her Muggle face, searching for her features but only finding her actions recognizable. Her voice failed her so she nodded her consent. He grabbed her hand and led her to an apparition point. "Will you take me to your place?" She nodded again through quieted sobs.

He grabbed her flush against him and gently pushed her head against his shoulder, waiting for her to apparate them. Hermione tried her hardest to contain the best of the emotions flowing through her. She needed to concentrate to get them to her place whole. But her mind kept straying to what she experienced inside his consciousness. No matter which open memory she had experienced, the same emotion underlined it. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 The Charmed Dragon Pendant

Draco stood, holding his witch against him while she tried to calm her overwhelming emotions. He wasn't the Legilimens; he wasn't sure how she was interpreting what she saw. He could only assume she truly did not know his admiration was real. He would have apparated them to his place, but he needed the charmed necklace as evidence of his love for her. (And the Slytherin in him wanted to know where she lived for future purposes.)

"Granger, let me cast the counterspell on you. You have already made me wait two days' time. I want to see _your_ face and hold _my_ witch's body." He pushed her away tenderly, readying his wand.

In response, she stood straight and met his eyes.

" _Incognitus Cognitus_ ," he commanded, while flicking his wand in the moderately complicated pattern. Before him, Granger stood holding the top of her dress against her chest. The tiny modification the tailor had cast was to expand that area a touch. Draco was too desperate to notice as he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her to him.

They embraced in a comfortable silence outside of Draco's contented sigh and Hermione's decrescendo of sniffs, until she was finally able to apparate them. Upon arrival, she was first to break their silence (but not their embrace) with the start of a conversation. "Malfoy, I saw, I felt, but I did not hear. You must explain yourself."

He massaged her back, rubbing his hands up and down, each time his hands moving lower. She grabbed his hands to stop his movement, determined for an explanation. Draco understood and moved his hands to the middle of her back, pulling her taut against him. "You will need to clarify what needs explaining, Granger. For starters, I have no idea why you chose to torture me last night."

"Torture you?" She pulled her head away from his shoulder and looked up at him.

He pecked her forehead. "Yes, my enchantress. You never came to me, and the two confusing letters you sent were a poor substitute to preoccupy my mind. I spent the night deducing what you meant by them and by your absence quite unsuccessfully."

She placed her head back against his shoulder. "I was not sure if you knew I was both witches. I was testing you tonight."

He let out a short laugh in disbelief. "Please, Granger. I knew you before you even sat down during our Polyjuice date."

At this, Hermione pulled an arm's length away. Malfoy would not allow her a further distance. He could see her processing the revelation until she finally figured it out. "I didn't realize I grabbed it so much," she whispered. With that comment, she moved to touch her scarred left forearm.

Draco began to slowly bring her closer and answered softly, "So you didn't see that when you were shifting inside my head? I think it is only when you are feeling vulnerable, my brave little Gryffindor." He moved his left hand to pull her chin up as he bent down to kiss her.

She allowed it briefly before pulling away as the desire within her argued against the move. "Thank you for that, by the way. Thank you for allowing me to know you so intimately. I know it wasn't easy." He smiled at her. "If it helps, I can't see much. I am not that skilled. I could mostly feel."

"I let you inside because I could find no better way to tell you how much your presence affects me since what you do to me is ineffable." He squeezed her harder against him.

"I must know, Malfoy, why not reveal yourself immediately? You knew I did not know. Why—" She stopped herself at the start of her second question. Malfoy did not know she overheard the conversation with his mother. She revisited the notion that Agrippa's invention was a dangerous one.

Draco was too distracted by lust to notice something amiss. Frustrated, he stated, "Granger, you want answers and I want your affection. Why not make this a fair exchange? Let me kiss you freely, and I will answer freely." He bent to kiss her once more. She did not allow it to deepen, and pulled away again.

"In that case, there is a deficit of answers that you must balance, Sir." She gave him a stern look, placing both hands on her hips.

"Sir?" He laughed.

"Yes. _Sir_. I mean business and if language will distance your licentiousness, then it is my primary weapon." Draco was staring at her chest. At that she crossed her arms to protect her modesty, remembering the extra space exposed at the top. Flushed with embarrassment, she turned her back to him and cast _Reducio_ much to Draco's chagrin. He had enjoyed the peep show she had given.

"Granger, that doesn't count as affection. My deficit remains the same." He was smirking at her and she was too mortified to respond immediately. Taking pity, Draco grabbed her hand and led her to her couch. He wanted to make another joke about charmed couches, but wisely decided against it. "I thought I could win your heart through seduction, but apparently I was wrong." He mentally reflected in his head the witches he had so easily conquered with strategically placed kisses and pretty words and realized the value of a witch that needed substance as well. He flicked his wand. " _Accio_ , _charmed dragon pendant_." Her necklace landed in his hand and he offered it to her. As she took the charm, he answered her in a soft and loving voice. "Granger, I am not like your Gryffindor friends. You are not like any of my Slytherin ones. We will have to learn to understand one another. Perhaps you are angry that I was not honest about my intentions with you upfront and chose disguise. But if you had examined this necklace, like I had thought you would, you would have seen, from my perspective, that I _was_ upfront with you." He gently grabbed her face in the same manner he had so many times before. "I want you Granger, wholeheartedly. I want the brilliant, paranoid little witch with the bushy hair that spreads infectious bliss." He kissed her lips briefly, desiring more but knowing better after being denied twice. "I have to go. I'm the Head of Magical Cultural Affairs and this is our biggest event. I can't let my absence cloud over the success." He kissed her left cheek. "Let me come here tonight, when the event is over?" He kissed her right cheek. "Will you let me, my little witch?" He kissed her forehead. "Will you take down your wards and let me in?" He kissed her lips and looked at her eyes, hopeful.

She smiled at him, happy, but not sated. He left her with a puzzle, the sneaky Slytherin. She could uncover the pendant's secrets and see what Draco meant by "being upfront," or she could return with him to a loud ballroom full of dancing and little private interaction. When it came to puzzles versus dancing, there was no question which would reign triumphant with Hermione. But desire played a role in her decision as well. She would return to the dance the moment she solved it. Resolved, she turned her head, kissing the hands that held her face and answered, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, I will let my wards down for you."

Draco knew when to leave well enough alone. He returned her smile, grabbed her hand, kissed it, then disapparated. Immediately Hermione held the necklace to the light. She examined the dragon and could tell it was charmed. She might have to consult Bill Weasley. The light, however, exposed what secret the jade teardrop contained, causing her to gasp in recognition. She would need a Pensieve to see the memory he extracted and wanted her to know. The fact that he had bared himself to her today combined with the memory he had gifted her Monday was enough to sate her curiosity. Desire now engulfed her as she apparated to the dance. She wanted to be with her wizard.

 **A/N: Dear Readers, the whole time I was drafting this chapter, rated M ideas kept creeping in. I need to get the ideas written before my brain will allow me to move on to Chapter 23, so please be patient if I do not post within a day or two. For those of you that do read rated M content, I have posted a one-shot called _Chapter 22 Extended,_ however it will have some events in it that happened during Chapter 23.**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 Future Action

Upon returning, Draco was accosted by loud music and dimmed candlelight. The crowds were dancing (in Draco's opinion) wildly to the newest music from the Weird Sisters. Had he been privy to Muggle culture, he would have recognized the vastly different style of dancing from the non-magical world. He was no prude, but his pure-blood tradition played a role in his judgement of the public display of closely gyrating hips between couples. His opinion was not a lone one, as a few other witches and wizards seemed reluctant to try such uninhibited movement. The majority however embraced the change. Love might not have been in the air, but Lust had a heavy presence. As he perambulated the outside of the dance floor a hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him around.

"I didn't uncover all its secrets, but what I did find was enough for tonight." Granger was smiling at him, the charmed dragon pendant around her neck. It complemented the now perfectly fitted emerald dress, and he then realized she had bought the dress with his gift in mind. He grabbed the hand on his shoulder and began to lead her to the dance floor. "Come, let us dance." She giggled in reply and he turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I just can't imagine you dancing like a Muggle. I would have thought you would view this style as promiscuous and improper."

He pulled her as close to him as was proper, and said as softly as he could when loud music accompanied a conversation, "Granger, I am not promiscuous, but I have no problems with trying something for the first time." Her eyes widened as her mouth opened slightly at the comment, and he assessed that perhaps this time she did catch his meaning. "Would you like to find a hidden place with me? I want to kiss you passionately without audience." He observed her hesitancy as she looked around at the enjoyment of the witches and wizards around her. "Don't worry, my witch, I have to be seen. We will sneak out only briefly." With the time restriction, she acquiesced, and Draco (because he oversaw the development of the magical ballroom) knew just where to take them.

As they departed the main hall, the diminishing music allowed Draco to speak without strain. "You'll like this, Granger. I wanted the ballroom to have a Room of Requirement, so I did some research in _Hogwarts: A History_. I know you know the rest of what I have to say and can see the start of the room here." He pointed to a disillusioned wall.

Hermione stepped forward and extended her hand to feel the magic permeating against the hidden door. "It may take decades before the room manifests itself. Are you willing to wait that long?"

Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind and replied, "For the room, yes. For you, no. Perhaps we can do some more research together. We could lie in bed while I read _Hogwarts: A History_ to you out loud." He grinned slyly at her flushed face, and turned her body around before pinning her against the magic birthed against the wall. She could not physically escape, but she had no desire to cast. Between the magic humming down her back, and the hardness of his body pushing against her in all the right places in the front, she had no desire to move. His face was so close that she felt his breath with every word he said next. "As long as we are connected to the wall, no one can see us. Can you feel the magic wrapping around us? I only wish it could block outside sound." And because his patience had been tried too many times that evening, he kissed her hard.

Draco was left to wonder how far he could have gone with her pinned against the wall as the announcement for his closing speech interrupted them. She locked her hands around his neck and pulled him into a kiss before saying, breathlessly, "That is enough for now, Malfoy. You have to return."

He kissed her briefly once more before responding, "But we have tonight. You have let down your wards so I may enter." His predatory look gave away his intentions as he released her and left for the ballroom. Hermione blushed and stared desirably at his attractive form as he walked away.

Malfoy's presence absorbed all else, and around him she could focus on nothing save the present. With his absence, Hermione was once again in control of her senses, and her mind continued its whirlwind of wonderings, ideas, and convictions. Amongst her thoughts, a sudden apprehension emerged as she thought about his need to lie to his mother. She wished she was a stronger Legilimens and immediately felt shame that she coveted the power to know another's intimacies. Her recent discovery that he was an Occlumens was met with paradoxical acknowledgment. She knew that he had the ability to block her, but his willing submission was _all_ she needed to know about her wizard. As she played with her dragon pendant, she resolved he would no longer be her subject. This left her with only her deductive skills, which were quite extensive for the brightest witch of her age. As she recalled how he would _loathe_ talking to his parents about dating a Muggle-born, she realized that every future action he made would expose his true intentions. If he was to keep her secret, public discretion would be a must. They had yet to disclose their relationship. He had yet to _tell_ her he loved her. Her thoughts continued to darken as she lived within her mind. But Draco possessed her inexplicably. The whirlwind of thoughts ceased by the sound of his voice. He was commencing his closing speech, and she was drawn to him, walking into the ballroom to join her peers in presence and energy.

Draco had already expunged the necessary niceties so common in public speeches when his peripheral noticed his witch's entrance into the ballroom. His speech, though simple, charmed an audience eager to be pleased. As they laughed cheerily at his joke, he made eye contact with Hermione and winked at her before continuing. The wink did not escape notice as many curious observers looked for the witch in which the flirtation was intended.

"You may not have noticed since so many of you seem to have eyes only for your partner tonight, but there are no reporters present." Harry and Ginny's corner of the room applauded loudly. "I banned all media tonight to give us the freedom of just _being_. But freedom is the opportune word in my statement. The Polyjuice Speed Dating and Owline Dating have proven successful. Soon, my office will be introducing an Intermural Quidditch League." The announcement caused a great stir of murmuring and interest. Draco could not get Hermione out of his head as his next declaration derived from her ideology. "The campaign has proven successful for many of you in meeting someone in which you are compatible because you had the freedom to choose. Some of you are meeting your partner for the first time tonight. What you choose to do from hence forth is on you. Whether you choose friendship or love, this experience has made you richer by negating blood biases." The room applauded with very few exceptions. Pansy Parkinson was one as she moped in the back of the crowd, arms crossed. Hermione filled with emotions upon hearing his words. When the applause died down, Draco continued. "The Second Wizarding War could not break us. We have a common understanding and a new tradition to unite us and future generations. Tonight, we made history, and I thank each and every one of you for participating." The room exploded as Draco absorbed their praise and admiration. Those who held reservations against the former Death Eater were finding the emotions of the room swaying their opinion of his character. As he made his way off the stage, many admirers grabbed at his robes. He dismissed the worship, walking with a determination to the witch at the base of his existence. He grabbed her ardently and hugged her. It was his future action. It was his public acknowledgement of respect and admiration for the witch he bullied several times over. It was proof that good conquered evil. Upon the embrace the ballroom was a cacophony of joy, and everything innately good; a moment made possible only because of the horrors that preceded it. Every witch and wizard, save a few, comprehended this without explanation. And they also understood, when Draco Lucius Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and pure-blood, held the face of Hermione Jean Granger, war hero and Muggle-born, that tonight, those two had chosen love.

The End.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Dear Reader, I ended the story with Chapter 23 because my intention was to write a love story. With their love complete, I had no need to continue it. However, from a Reader's perspective, I can understand how many parts of my story lead it to be one that is easily expanded upon. If any of you wish to continue the story and write about Intermural Quidditch, what happens to Agrippa, what memory is inside her dragon pendant, and the interactions between Draco, Hermione, and the Malfoys, please let me know. I would love to read it.**

 **Below are chapters I wrote for the story, but never put in. I also included an epilogue somewhere.**

 **This is dedicated to simply because she requested an addition chapter.**

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Extra Chapter:

Finding Happiness

"Uham Oms" Ron mumbled through a food stuffed mouth.

"What?" Hermione asked. It was Thursday evening, and Hermione found herself eating a Molly-Weasley-made dinner at Ron's flat. She looked up from her corned beef sandwich at Ron. She never understood why he didn't like them.

"I said her name is Susan Bones." Ron wiped his hands on a napkin and took a drink of butterbeer. "She's the one I was Owline Dating. Now that we have revealed ourselves we can no longer use the Ministry owls. We have seen each other every day for the past few weeks."

Hermione tried to think back to their Hogwarts days since she had not seen Susan in at least three years. "Didn't she sit beside you in potions once? I always liked her. She seemed nice when we were in the D.A."

Ron laughed, "Well she's a hugging Hufflepuff. She has to be nice to everyone."

"You don't sound happy."

"Oh no, you got it all wrong, 'Mione. I find a great deal of contentment in this relationship." Ron took another bite of his chicken sandwich and spoke barely audibly with his mouth full. "She is still fragile from the war. I mean, losing Fred almost tore our family apart with grief. You know George didn't talk to anyone for months. But Susan lost everyone. She says I am her strength. It's nice, you know? Being the person someone else needs completely."

Hermione sat in quiet contemplation. Ron was talking about completion and it made her think of Malfoy.

"She is attracted to my big family as well. It's refreshing. I invited her to Sunday brunch at the Burrow. You want to come too? It's been so long since you joined us." As he finished his sandwich he began anew with a different timbre to his voice. "Susan doesn't like that I am an auror."

"I can imagine," Hermione replied softly. Amelia Bones was one of the most talented, noble witches to have served the Ministry. Her parents had set the precedent. "But I'm sure she can see the honor in your position."

"More like the horror. She has practically begged me to quit. She bakes now, with Hannah Abbott, and helps her at The Leaky Cauldron. I'm her date to Neville and Hannah's wedding."

"So what are you going to do? How serious are you about her?" Hermione could not contain her curiosity.

"Well, quite honestly, I have been thinking of retiring my fighting ways. I think I have done my share in protecting Wizarding Britain. More than my share, really. George keeps heavily hinting that he wouldn't mind a brotherly hand at the shop." He paused before continuing, "I didn't expect this 'Mione. I was looking to shop in a market of admiration and fun times. I wanted to be free and flirt openly. But she found me. She recognized me as everything she needed, and that leashed me to her. Being needed is what I need. I don't know. You know I'm not the best with explaining." He looked to Hermione for acceptance to the idea. She smiled gently and squeezed his hand from across the table.

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Epilogue

Had it not been for their strong bond, Harry and Ginny would have separated long ago. His obligations to justice as Head of the Auror Office and her constant traveling as a professional Quidditch player kept them apart more than together. A weaker love would have resigned, but theirs was one poets try to capture with pretty words; it was not to be deterred. Although neither thought about their future together, it was not necessary. Their love held an unspoken bond between the two. Their future together was sealed whilst still at Hogwarts.

Luna, Neville, and several others celebrated a happy union well within the eighteen month deadline the Wizengamot Council had set for the Voluntary Search for Compatible Partners Campaign. The Intermural Quidditch League added to the cultural phenomenon that was the brainchild of Hermione Granger, and future research would prove it also extended psychological happiness and physical health. (After all, no witch or wizard ever went to a gym.) Because of its popularity, no politician was willing to touch the areas in which it had not succeeded, such as propagation. Many still opposed, but time lessened that number.

Agrippa still works for the ministry, providing inside information for those she deems worthy. Her gossiping ways will meet its end shortly. Harry worked diligently and with the upmost secrecy to bring about the termination.

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Final Chapter

They were quietly sitting in a quaint diner in Spain, drinking coffee and eating sweet pastries when Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and massaged it. She smiled at him, observing his unusual nervous energy. "I want you to meet my parents."

Her smiled faded only a smidge before she replied, "Sure, but first you must meet mine."

"That joke is neither proper, nor well timed, Ms. Granger. I do believe you are avoiding the request."

"It was not a request, it was a command."

"You are furthering my point." He squeezed her hand.

"I'm a Gryffindor, you have no point." She squeezed his hand back, harder.

"Meaning you will find some way to cheat me out of the pleasure of introducing my betrothed?"

"Meaning I will _brave_ the formal introduction." She yanked her hand away from his and grabbed a pastry to occupy it, protecting it from further harassment. "Betrothed," she scoffed, "the audacity. You never asked, you know. Assumptions can get you into trouble."

"I didn't realize I needed to ask for your hand," he stated innocently, while reaching for her unoccupied left hand. "I take it all the time without asking." He held up their jointed union as proof.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" she asked, irritation monopolizing her logic. He was laughing audibly at her, complete with shaking shoulders. She tried to pull her hand from his tight grip to no avail.

"Granger, Love, I don't think. I _know_." Her groan in response filled him with more light-heartedness. "And because you cannot help but be drawn to the vast intricacies of my complicated, talented, _clever_ mind, you have no option _but_ to give unto me." His eyes tracked her body as her eyes grew in recognition of the act. "After all, you have given in so many other ways, why do something only halfway? We both know you don't like incomplete projects." He was moving his eyebrows up and down at her, and Hermione had no idea how to react to his newfound playfulness.

Unbeknownst to her, he _was_ planning to propose-that night. But because his witch was the brightest of a generation, and because he was a top notch Slytherin, he found the best way to prevent her suspicions of his amorous plans was to act in direct opposition to his true intentions. To the best of his observations of her baffled retorts, he was executing the plan to near perfection. He inwardly chuckled at her flummoxed reactions to his playful behavior. He just might frequent the conduct for the sole purpose of the entertainment she provided.

Draco Malfoy, after four long, torturous years, had finally discovered the clever, charming wizard he was destined to be. It took his love for a great Muggle-born witch to pull him from his shell of guilt and self-loathing, and she was just now seeing the effects. He pulled up her sleeve, revealing the reminder of why good existed, and kissed each letter as he had once months and months before. Then he grabbed her chin and lifted it to see the anger in her eyes melting away. "I love that you are mine."

"You say that often," she replied quietly.

"I love you." He said, leaning closer to her lips.

"You have never said that before." The beginning of tears began to form in her eyes.

He kissed them away. "I have loved you since our conversation outside Courtroom Eight."

"And I have loved you since the closet incident." She managed a staccato laugh.

"I have a surprise for you tonight," he whispered, and kissed her with such passion enveloped in love, that she forgot what he said, and consequently, that she should ask what it is.

 **A/N: I forgot to thank you for your kind reviews. You have made writing my first story a positive experience.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Dear Readers,**

 **I am currently rewriting this story on another site, and I thought I would share this chapter with you since the swirl in the pendant was a mystery I left unsolved.**

Hermione heard the crack from her bedroom quickly followed by Bill's voice, saying, "I hear you have a powerful piece of jewelry gifted to you from one of the oldest wizard families. Tell me, how did you capture the attention of a Malfoy, hmmm?" She sighed as she exited her privacy to meet the eldest Weasley.

"You know, Bill, I always assumed you were above the teasing and gossip that accompanies every other Weasley sibling, but now I see you were probably their teacher." She looked at his smiling face, although the scar prevented it from being symmetrical.

"Perhaps." He shrugged his shoulders and placed his hands in his robe pockets. "But you cannot help me being curious, Hermione. If you may permit me to relive an unpleasant moment, the last time you met with the Malfoys, you were shaken, unable to stand on your own, and also very closed lipped. If being around a Malfoy invokes secrecy, please consider what exactly you are getting from the relationship."

Hermione huffed. "Bill, the secrets we kept during the war has nothing to do with now. Just because you did not know Malfoy gave me this pendant does not entitle you to pass judgement." She pulled the jade teardrop from under her blouse and presented it to him.

"Ah, here is the source of my visit." He approached her, eyes glued to the swirl. "May I?" She nodded. Bill closed the gap between them. "The dragon has protective powers. I can feel it." He stroked the curve of the silver dragon's back. "But what does it protect? I wonder…" He touched the jade teardrop, and immediately the dragon moved. Hermione let out a surprised gasp, but Bill seemed to expect it. He removed his hand before it could be attacked. "I am willing to bet you cannot take off the pendent."

She met his eyes with curiosity. "Why do you say that?"

"It has a bonding spell. A strong one. I know you feel it too." She nodded. "I am going to cast a few spells to reveal what bonds you. Hold still." Hermione found it difficult, after years of fighting, to willingly let a wizard wave his wand at her. Bill also cast silently, which vexed her greatly. One of the reasons she permitted his visit was to learn. Her vexation grew as he took his time.

His wand fell to his side as he looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Well?" she asked.

"I am having difficulty uncovering the bond's source."

"What have you tried?" Her heart began to beat faster.

"Well first I tried lust." Hermione glared at him as he refused to meet her eyes. "Then I tried love. I also tried enemy and friendship, and some basic bonding spells that just make you think of one another."

They paused together in silent contemplation when Hermione finally recalled her conversation with the Malfoy matriarch. "Can bonds be made by…happiness?"

"Hold still." He waved once more then nodded. "He used a bond that is very rare, Hermione. I only know about it because I have come across it once before, and it struck me as beautiful." He knew his remark would only entice more questions so he quickly added information. "It is a bond created by happiness. It is rare because most witches and wizards prefer love bonds performed on their jewelry." He moved to her again and lifted the pendant by the chain. "Hmm."

"Keep talking, Bill. Everything you think, say it aloud."

Bill gazed into her eyes. "Love bonds cast on jewelry are not very powerful, Hermione. The reason being, love is the more powerful 'magic' so it is not controlled by spells. You already know there is no _true_ love potion. However, the elite (and by elite I mean the very rich), often try to prove their love to one another through gifting of expensive jewelry with love bonds. Its purpose works well enough, and both parties can boast of the fine jewelry, which accrues a higher interest due to the love bond. There is a market for this very sort of thing, as the wealthy need frivolous ways to spend their gold."

"But this is not a love bond."

"No, it isn't. Which makes me think Malfoy is much cleverer, and valuable, than I ever gave him credit for." He looked at her again. "I am beginning to understand." There was a pause as he began to asses her instead of the jewelry.

"Bill, you are trying my patience. Understand what?"

"I am beginning to understand why he chose you. Hermione, you make him happy." She blushed. "This dragon protects the true gift he gave you, which swirls inside the jade teardrop. Most would assume it is a memory, because most are not aware of what else can cause a swirl when it is trapped."

"It's his Patronus!" She gasped, yet again, and stepped away from him as she lifted her necklace. " _Lumos_." Against the light she observed, with new eyes, the swirl inside, and wished for privacy.

"I will say one last thing before I go. Love spells are next to useless. It is a secret joke amongst Goblins to poke fun at witches and wizards that pay high galleon for jewelry with love bonds. But what Malfoy gave you was real. You know how a Patronus works." With those words, Bill disapparated.

Alone, she was able to release her true emotions. Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and hugged the necklace with her fist. She could feel the dragon shift within her hand and released her hold. She had one more hour before Malfoy would apparate to her cottage, to spend the night as he had for the past week. She recalled feeling the magic at its strongest when he held her at night. As her heart pound in her chest, the bond matched her rhythm and she knew Malfoy had found a way to bottle love.


End file.
